


Her Number One

by DumpsterDiving101



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, Awesome Peggy Carter, BAMF Peggy Carter, Bipolar Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Returns, Captain America Steve Rogers, Captain America: The First Avenger, Drama, Drama & Romance, Drama Drama Drama, Execution, F/M, Fight Scenes, Fights, Fluff, Murder, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, POV Alternating, POV Peggy Carter, POV Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter Lives, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Revenge, Sam Wilson deserves better, Sokovia Accords, Steggy Secret Santa, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Superpowers, Suspense, Team as Family, Teleportation, Thaddeus Ross is a dick, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-02 06:38:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DumpsterDiving101/pseuds/DumpsterDiving101
Summary: Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter fell in love and got engaged during the second world war. Unfortunately, soon after Steve’s plane crashed in the Arctic. Three years later, Peggy was working with colleague Howard Stark when one of his inventions went rogue, sending her forwards in time and giving her the ability to teleport. It just so happened that Steve hadn’t died either and instead was frozen and thawed after seventy years. Now, they are both in the 21st century and finally have the ability to reunite-- except Peggy has been executing high profile politicians, and Steve's team is the one tasked with bringing her in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allmyheart2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allmyheart2/gifts).



> This is my work for the 2018 Steggy Secret Santa for allmyheart2! It's a little late, but we've been working super hard to get this out and to make it perfect, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> A million thanks to my amazing beta candycanedarcy, I couldn't have done this without you! They were with me through all 500 different drafts of this, including literal pages and pages of planning and then throughout the entire 30k word fic. This became a much bigger project than I'd expected, so thank you so much for all your hard work!
> 
> Now, onto the story!

**Steve**

 

Denver’s capitol building would probably be a lot more impressive if it wasn’t under construction. It also would have been more impressive if Steve had time to actually admire it. The walls were lined with paintings, and the golden dome on top (the main focus of the construction) must have looked beautiful in the early morning light, but alas, he had no time to stop and stare: he was on a mission.

 It was so early in the morning that the sun was still in the process of rising. Steve could see the windows casting warm glows against the walls, and felt a surge of panic. They couldn’t wait until the sun rose. they had to complete the mission before then.

 “Update!” Tony commanded into the comms, “Has anyone found her?”

 “I haven’t seen anyone new go in or out,” Sam noted. “The ground is clear. Steve?”

 “Nothing,” Steve said, his breath a little ragged. He’d been jogging, but he knew the hard breathing wasn’t from that. He pulled out the little burner phone again, checking, but there were no new messages. The phone would’ve buzzed, but Steve couldn’t stop himself from checking anyways. “Nat?”

 “Did you know that there are people out there who actually do the crosswords in the paper?”

 Natasha was, as usual, unrushed, unworried, and unashamed. Steve huffed out a sigh, jogging around the corner into another hall of empty offices and blurry paintings. “What?”

 “I’m in Hickenlooper’s office now. He’s not here, obviously. But he’s got a ton of newspapers in his recycle bin with the crosswords filled out. Even the expert ones.”

 “I could do an expert crossword puzzle,” Tony said, like that mattered at all at the moment.

 Steve peeked into the offices, only staying long enough to check behind the curtains and under the desks. “Remind me why this is relevant?”

 “Oh, it’s not. But I thought we might as well make small talk, since we’re not going to find her.”

 “Yeah? And why’s that?” Tony asked.

 “Because she can teleport,” Natasha said, the eye roll audible in her tone. “And we can’t, and neither can Governor Hickenlooper. We’re not here to save him, we’re here to find the body.”

 There was a pause. Steve finished checking the rooms in that hallway, and spared a moment to stick his head out the window. It was open; had it been open before? The sun was getting scarily close to making it all the way over the horizon. “Shit,” he murmured, yanking out the burner phone and typing quickly into it:

  **We can talk about this**

Sam responded on the comms. “Well Nat, that’s one way to look at things. But we need to keep trying; you should look somewhere besides his office.”

 “Oh, I already have. There’s nothing in the East wing.”

 Screw this. “I’m going up to the observation deck,” Steve decided, “This isn’t helpful.”

 “Go for it,” Tony intoned. “Maybe take a picture while you’re up there. Try to get the sun over the mountains.”

 “Tony, the mountains are in the west. The sun rises in the east.”

 Tony complained over the line, but Steve ignored him, taking the steps two at a time. He got to another level and then had to go up a precarious seeming staircase to get to the inside of the dome. It was too early for the building to be open, but some of the staff was known to come in early, including the Governor himself.

 They’d been given a message. It had been scrawled in red lipstick on Thaddeus Ross’ window at five that morning: **_THE CRIMES WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED. JOHN HICKENLOOPER, SUNRISE._ **

**** The Avengers had been called in and shuttled into a quinjet in minutes. They’d been debriefed on the circumstances— though the debrief was very short— and sent to Colorado’s capital to try and save the Governor before sunrise.

 Steve cursed again. The sun was so close; they had a minute, maybe. Probably less.

 The observatory was empty, and the morning breeze brushed cooly across Steve’s face from the giant hole in the side of the dome. They were… repainting it? Fixing leaks? Steve didn’t know, but whatever they were doing, it involved lots and lots of metal scaffolding surrounding the dome, assumably for the workers.

 He pulled out the phone again. They had seconds, at the most. He fired off another text.

  **Come on, talk to me. I won’t tell the others.**

This time, dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, signaling that she was typing. Steve held his breath.

  _Buzzzz._

**_I know you wouldn’t._ **

**** “Fuck!” Tony yelled into the radio, making Steve jump. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 “Tony! What happened?”

 “There was a— a trap, fucking shit! Pressure sensors under the rug, I think. It set off an explosion of some sort of sticky shit, I don’t know, I’m fine but the suit is toast. It’s eating away at the metal, god fucking dammit, this is a new one too—”

 “It’s going to be okay,” Sam assured him. “Steve, Natasha, what’s your—”

 Natasha shrieked, and there were the sounds of a struggle, and then her breathing heavily. “Another trap! How’d she know I’d check here?”

 “Are you okay?” Steve asked, pressing the comm firmer into his ear. He was so focused on what was happening over the radio that he didn’t notice the flash of motion outside.

 “I’m fine, but Steve, you have to hurry! Sam, have you spotted anything? Maybe she—”

 She was cut off by an explosion over the comms. Steve knew it could only be one thing, and he ran to the nearest window, leaning out of it as he watched Sam get thrown from the explosion. His wings were gone, and there were a few horrible seconds before his parachute engaged and his descent was slowed. “My wings! How did she get to them? Tony, I thought you said the compound was safe!”

 “It is!” Tony yelled. “Do you still have your guns?”

 “No, my pants were taken off in the explosion! She did it on purpose!”

 Steve frowned a bit as he tried to make out Sam’s figure floating towards the ground. Upon closer inspection, his pants were indeed gone, and all he wore on his legs were a pair of blue plaid boxers. Sam turned, looked in his direction, and yelled “Stop staring and find her!”

 _Right._ Steve pulled back, looking around as he tried to come up with some sort of plan, when he saw something from the corner of his eyes. He turned and found two figures standing on the scaffolding where no one had been before. They couldn’t have climbed up without Steve noticing, but there they were.

 The first figure was a man, wearing an ill-fitting suit with the collar unbuttoned. His hair was light brown, but clearly beginning to gray, and he turned, giving Steve just a quick flash of his face. Steve had never seen him in person, but he’d studied his image on the flight over. It was the Governor, the man they were _supposed to save,_ John Hickenlooper. Which meant…

 The second figure stood behind him, prodding him closer to the edge of the scaffolding. She wore a dark jumpsuit, belted at the waist. The breeze ruffled her hair, and when she glanced behind her, her red lips curled in a small smile. Her eyes were framed by a black mask, the type heroes and villains alike wore in comics, the type that wasn’t enough to obscure her features but was enough to impede every facial recognition software available.

 But Steve didn’t need software to tell him who it was. The woman was Peggy, in the flesh. Peggy Carter, his fiancé from the 40s. They hadn’t spoken in person in years, but they kept each other updated through text. He knew the books she’d been reading, the food she’d been eating. And he knew what she was going to do next.

 He also knew that he had no choice but to try and stop it.

 He scrambled through the window, balancing precariously on the thin scaffolding as he inches closer to them. The sun was all the way over the horizon, framing Peggy in a golden halo.

 “Stop!” Steve cried out. “Don’t do it, you have nowhere to run—”

 He tried to lift his back foot, but it was stuck. He tried lifting his front one. Stuck.

 Another one of her booby traps, great. “Stop!”

 She just shook her head. Steve used all of his strength trying to un-stick his feet but had no luck.

 “What’s happening up there?” Tony said in his comm. Steve opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

 The Governor was right up to the edge of the scaffolding, looking down to the grass a hundred feet below. The next move was simple and vicious: the man turned and his forehead hit the barrel of Peggy’s gun, which went off, blowing straight through his head. He fell backward, dead before he hit the ground.

 “You can’t keep doing this!” Steve yelled at Peggy, who was looking down at the body. “Turn yourself in, or we’ll have to take drastic measures!”

 She turned, and though she didn’t speak he could see her features, unimpressed. If she spoke, they could compare her voice to old sound bites and find out who she was. Therefore, she stayed silent. She shook her head like she was thinking _Oh Steven, always sticking your head where it doesn’t belong._

She was beautiful. Steve should have continued trying to negotiate, but he couldn’t make himself. She was _beautiful._ He’d never met another person like her. She was strong, and fearless, and beautiful. An angel, alight by the sun rising behind her.

 Her lips quirked in a smile. After all these years, they were still playing games.

 “Can anyone come to back Steve up?” Sam said over the comms, too far away.

 “No,” the others both answered without hesitation. Tony: “I’m still stuck. What’s happening? Steve, if you see her, you have to get her. We have orders to bring her in alive.”

 Peggy cocked her head, still smiling.

 “I’m stuck,” Steve muttered, trying his feet again. “But I’m blocking her only way out.”

 To that Peggy just tipped her head back, laughing silently. She winked at Steve, and then she was gone.

 He sighed. “Nevermind. I forgot that she can teleport.”

 Tony cursed over the comms.  


—————————

  
**_Peggy_ **

 Peggy let out a long, self-indulgent sigh when she got back to the flat. It was a tiny thing, but she hadn’t spent much time in large flats. When she was a code-breaker she lived in a dormitory with fifty other women, and when she was working with Howard in the SSR she lived in a one-room only a block away.

 Her current apartment was about the same size. It had a kitchenette, a little couch shoved in between the counter and the wall, a bed, and a bathroom. The bathroom contained a bath, a sink, and a toilet tucked in the corner, so close to the wall she had to sit on it sideways to have enough room for her legs.

 She cracked her neck to the side, peeling off the mask and rubbing the skin there. She felt like she’d been awake for ages, when in reality it had only been… what, five hours? She’d woken up at four and stepped back into the apartment at nine, so yes, five, though it felt like longer with the two flights. She’d… _commandeered_ a quinjet a while back, and the flight to Denver was two hours round trip. She loved the quinjet, but sometimes she wished she could teleport long distances. It would be so much more convenient.

 She finished stripping down and appeared in the bathroom, turning on the tap. The tub was almost filled when she heard a noise in the main room and teleported there, scooping up her phone and reappearing back in the bathroom with it.

  **Tony’s never going to get over you destroying his suit**

She smiled. Her hand reached out blindly, turning off the tap. She sunk into the tub, keeping the phone above water as she settled in to reply.

  **_What a shame._ **

**** **Do you want to explain what happened there?**

 No. Peggy didn’t bother telling him so; Steve knew. Asking was redundant.

 **Anyways** , Steve texted after a moment, apparently giving in. **You looked good.**

**_You too_ **

**** **We should meet up some time. Do you still take milk in your tea?**

**_You know I do._ ****_But we can’t._ **

**** **Why not?**

**_I’m busy that day._ **

**** **I didn’t say which day**

**_I know. I’m a very busy woman._ **

**** **You don’t even have time for your best guy?**

She snorted. **_I’m messaging you now, aren’t I?_ **

**** **Aw, come on. You know that’s not the same.**

Peggy tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth. She rubbed her legs together, the tops of her knees poking out of the water. **_I know_ **

**** **How about Patsy’s the day after tomorrow? You pick the time**

**_I can’t. I’m busy._ **

**** **Busy doing what? The same thing as you did this morning?**

She didn’t respond, and she backspaced so it wouldn’t tell him that she was typing. She’d told him long ago that she wouldn’t answer that type of question, but of course Steve was stubborn as an ox. Seventy years later, and that was still true.

**Pegs, I’m worried.**

  **You can’t keep doing this**

Peggy considered putting the phone aside and checking again when Steve might be done. He’d blown up her phone with messages the first time people started talking about “The Ghost”— that was what the called her, which, how creative, gold star— and she’d ignored him then, and she’d ignore him now. It was none of his business.

 Still, she didn’t put the phone down.

  **Please meet with me**

**Just tea, I promise**

**Actually no**

**I’ll buy you a pastry too**

**We could do breakfast???**

**I just want to talk**

**Peggy, you know I can keep a secret**

**I’ve been keeping you a secret for the past six years**

**Wouldn’t it be nice to talk to someone?**

**Do you have anyone to talk to?**

**I won’t try to stop you**

**But you shouldn’t be alone**

  ** _I’m not alone._ **

**** That was a lie. Peggy was almost as alone as she’d ever been, but not quite as much. When she woke up in 2010, not knowing anyone and not knowing where she was, why everyone was dressed in such strange uniforms— _that_ was when she was as alone as she’d ever been. But now she had Steve. And before him, she’d had…

 Well…

 She shut down the train of thought. It was still raw, and she didn’t want to think about them unless she had to.

  **Yeah?? Who’s with you?**

**_Is Tony really all that angry about his suit?_ **

**** **He’s super annoyed**

**It was new**

**_Oh_ **

**_A shame_ **

**** **Do you regret it?**

**_Would you feel better if I said yes?_ **  


———————  


**Steve**

Steve grinned at his phone. He missed Peggy like crazy, but the texting made him feel at least a little better.

 “...And why was the acid even necessary? I would have been just as stuck there if the goop was just sticky, but _no,_ it had to be acidic because she’s a witch, and do you know what this country does to witches? We burn them!”

 “Tony,” Steve said, voice devoid of any emotion. “Doesn’t burning her seem like a bit much?”

 Tony’s hands flew in the air, exasperated. In one hand he was holding a wrench that he’d been using, unsuccessfully, to try and fix the acid-ridden joints of one of his gauntlets. “Maybe, but maybe not! I mean, she has the teleportation thing going on, clearly she’s not human—”

 “Tony, under that logic _I’m_ not human.”

 “Maybe we should burn you too,” Natasha said casually. She was sitting back in a chair, her knees up to her chest and a mug of steaming coffee in her hands. Her hood was pulled up, and to most people she’d look like a harmless young adult. Luckily, Steve knew better.

 Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, please. Let’s burn all of our problems.”

 “If we burned all of our problems, we’d have to burn Ross,” Natasha pointed out. “And then we’d have no handler.”

 “No burning Ross,” Tony said officially. “Not without a unanimous team vote.”

 Natasha shrugged. “Fine. Tony, you’re off the team. All in favor of burning Ross?”

 Steve, Sam, and Natasha all raised their hands with an “Aye.”

 “Not actually,” Sam added. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re joking, but I’m never sure.”

 “I don’t joke.”

 That was a lie. Natasha loved jokes. She usually just said them so seriously and darkly that it was easy to get confused.

 Steve’s phone buzzed again, and he checked it without thinking. **_I’d love to go to breakfast with you. I’m sorry that I can’t._ **

**** “...one more time, J, just one more.”

 Steve looked up to see Tony looking at the screen again. He huffed. “Come on Tony, you’re just going to drive yourself crazy—”

 Tony waved him away obnoxiously. “Just one more.”

 Jarvis played the tape again. All of them had cameras attached to the chests of their uniforms that recorded everything during missions, like the body cams some police officers wore. This footage was of the video Steve’s camera had taken.

 They’d already gone over it a million times, and though Steve was planning on watching it again and again on a loop later, he didn’t want to have to see it anymore around the others. They looked at Peggy and saw a criminal, someone they had to take in. They didn’t see what Steve saw.

 Still, he had to inhale when he saw her. Glowing like a goddess, looking strong and healthy and _solid,_ so different from the last time Steve had seen her.

Steve was frozen for nearly seventy years, and had woken up in March of 2012. He’d been immediately taken in by SHIELD, and it wasn’t a full month before the Chitauri invasion happened. There was a lot of news coverage around and after the invasion, and for the first time the world was informed that he was back. One week later, he’d been strolling down the street when he was kidnapped in broad daylight. One minute he was walking along, the next, a hand was covering his mouth and dragging him into darkness. It wasn’t darkness like a dark alley, but darkness like… the black of closed eyes. It was dark like space was dark.

 Steve was only there for a second before the arms grabbing him pulled forcefully. He was thrown on the ground and he rolled limply, not getting up. It had been… it was… what was that place?

 He was no longer out on the street, but in a building. How had that happened? It had only been a second, and he hadn’t actually been pulled anywhere. It was as if the person had picked him up and dropped him down, but instead of landing at the same place he was somewhere completely different.

 The person kicked him in the side and he rolled over, groaning. “I know you think that you’re funny, but let me assure you, you are _not_.”

 Steve rolled onto his back, shading his eyes with his hand as he squinted up. It sounded like… and it looked like… but it couldn’t be…

 “Peggy?”

 “What the hell?” She hissed. “How do you know me?”

 “Pegs… it’s me. Steve. I thought you were—”

 “ _No,_ you’re _not._ Steve… Steve died in ‘45. I was there, I know.”

 Steve sat up, looking Peggy up and down desperately. It looked like her, but logically, he knew it couldn’t be her. Right?

 Steve looked down. “I didn’t die. I was just… frozen. For seventy years, they tell me.”

 Peggy looked unsure, and Steve’s heart leapt. It was Peggy, without a doubt. No one else could make that expression, that little shifting, looking away thing, like they were so busy thinking they forgot themself. Her eyes snapped to him, as intense and bright as ever. “If you’re lying to me—”

 “I’m not. I’m not, Pegs, I promise.”

 She stepped forwards, offered him her hand, and pulled him to his feet. Just that seemed to take a lot of effort out of her, and she stumbled.

 “Pegs? Are you—”

 “I’m fine,” she promised, but when he tried to put a hand on her shoulder it passed right through her. She huffed. “Yes, that’s been happening quite a bit. Steve… I’m not the same as I was in the war. There was an accident with Howard…” She stepped forwards, her warm, not-quite-solid hands resting on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

 Then she kissed his cheek, and disappeared.

 Steve remembered this as the video played again. Peggy, standing on the scaffolding. Peggy, turning around. Peggy, smiling and winking at Steve.

 “Why did she do that?” Tony asked after the wink. He had Jarvis play back the footage of her in slow motion, trying to figure out how she teleported. He thought it was due to some device; Steve knew for a fact it wasn’t. “Why did she wink at you?”

 “It’s a villainess thing, I think,” Sam suggested. “All female villains are batshit crazy.”

 Natasha shifted her legs. “I’d call that comment sexist, except it’s not wrong.”

 “Wow, did you almost just not-insult me? I’m honored.”

 Natasha hid her smile with her mug. “Don’t get used to it.”

 Tony shook his head, ignoring them. “Why would she wink at you?”

 Steve shrugged. “Maybe she thought I was cute.” Just the suggestion of it made his ears feel hot. He almost _married_ this woman, and the suggestion that she might find him physically appealing? Barbaric.

 Luckily, that seemed to distract them. “Aww, he’s embarrassed!” Natasha cooed, which was enough to make Tony look away from the screen to grin at Steve. Steve groaned and turned away, refusing to meet any of their eyes while they were teasing him.

 The phone felt heavy on his lap.  


—————————  


 Steve would say it had been a whirlwind romance, but that wasn’t true at all. When they first met at Camp Lehigh, it was a lot of tentative looks. Erskine had promised everyone that Steve was something else, but Steve knew that physically, he was a disappointment. Peggy never passed judgement on him, but she didn’t seem completely sure the first time they met. Then Steve jumped on a dummy grenade, and something sparked in her eyes. As it turned out, Steve’s kind of crazy matched up well with Peggy’s kind of crazy. They were both goal driven, the type of people who thrive in a war because of how fast paced and aggressive everything was. They were not the type of people who could handle boredom.

 Steve kept trying to train his shrimpy body into submission, and Peggy watched from afar, trying to decide exactly how she felt about Steve being the first super soldier. They talked a little, and Steve did his best to keep his ground. Peggy Carter was terrifying; she was the type of woman who knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of, and that answer was _everything._ She would not lower her standards, she would not dull her edges, she was sharp and bright and aggressive and _brilliant._

 Steve got the serum, and then he hardly ever saw her. His dancing monkey act took him around the states, while her military weapons-strategist gig kept her where the important things were happening. She had seen one of his shows, though; the one where the soldiers threw rotten vegetables at him.

 “And those are your only two options,” Peggy had said, after Steve told her what the alternative to the spangles act was, “A lab rat or a dancing monkey.” Peggy never did pull her punches. “You were meant for more than this, you know.”

 She said it with the same harsh demeanor as before, but now Steve realized the harshness wasn’t aimed at him. Peggy didn’t fight for the sake of fighting; she fought because there was injustice in the world.

 Steve was in love.

 Peggy and Howard were the ones who helped Steve sneak away from the show circuit. With their help, he saved Bucky and the rest of the 107th. After that, he and the Howling Commandos started their series of raids. They knew the land better than anyone else, navigating it and spending weeks on their own, away from the rest of the army. It would have meant weeks away from Peggy, and right after their relationship had begun.

 Except that Peggy went with them.

 She’d fought tooth and nail to come, of course, but in the end the other Commandos insisted, threatening insubordination. The generals had had no choice but to allow Peggy to go.

 She brought a lot to the table. She didn’t have magical, perfect aim like Clint did, but she was gutsy and her hand never shook when she took a shot. She was also one of the best in navigating and strategizing. She was the perfect soldier, the type of person you trusted to have your back.

 It was after she started travelling with them that the romance hit hard. At night when everyone else was asleep besides whatever sop was on guard duty, Peggy would sneak out of her tent and Steve would crawl over a snoring Bucky in his, and they’d meet outside. They’d trade with whoever was on guard duty and sit together for hours, talking lowly about life, about the war, and about what could come next. It was after a huge raid that Steve proposed. They were both filthy, covered in dirt and blood with the scent of gunpowder still on their hands, and Steve didn’t even have a ring. She said yes before he could even finish.

 And then of course, Steve had gone and died a week later. Whatever.

 Peggy’d told him— over text, of course— that after that, Peggy stayed with the Commandos a little longer before going back to the SSR. She’d worked with Howard for three years before one of his experiments went wrong and she was zapped with a ray that dissolved her body into light. She’d described it as being reclaimed by the universe, torn apart so finely she no longer existed in one, finite place.

 Then, something had happened, and for whatever reason, her atoms all pulled back together, forming one mostly-solid Peggy. Her powers had attracted a group of skilled individuals— like the Avengers, but much less showy— and they’d trained and worked with her. She’d woken up in 2010, and in 2012 she’d established contact with Steve: the burner phones. Something happened to the rest of her team in 2016, right around the time the issue of the Accords started coming up. Peggy was left alone.

 At least, Steve assumed she was alone. She insisted she wasn’t, but she always changed the subject when he asked who was with her.

 And then she killed Matthew Butcher and Julian Beckers, leaving the crime scenes before the Avengers could get there. Video footage caught her, though no one knew it was Peggy. She was given the name The Ghost, based off of her teleportation. And no matter how hard Steve pleaded, she wouldn’t tell him why she’d done what she did. He knew that the strike team she’d worked with had basically been an elite killing force, and she’d killed during the war, but this was different. These killing weren’t in defense; they were executions.

 When the police examined the body of Governor Hickenlooper, they’d found the number 7 drawn over his shirt pocket in lipstick. Steve didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t like it. Peggy couldn’t keep going like this. Sooner or later, something would go wrong, and either she would be killed in a fight, or she’d be captured by the government and put on trial before being executed. No, he couldn’t let that happen. If they brought in Peggy now, they still had a chance. She had skills they could use; with enough spin, they could make her an Avenger.

 But they couldn’t do that if she continued holding her own executions. Which meant that now, Steve had only one job: to bring his fiancée in alive and keep her that way.  


———————  


**_Peggy_ **  


 

 **** **I’ll be at the Coffee And Pie Diner at noon** , Steve’s text read. **They’ve got the best fries around.**

It was an invitation, though it wasn’t phrased that way. Steve had given up on inviting her out and had started just telling her where he’d be, like she might just swing by on her way home. Peggy shook her head, put away her phone, and got to work.

 She ducked into an alley and then reappeared fifteen stories up, the bland office becoming more and more familiar with every visit. Thaddeus Ross wasn’t one for decorations. His desk held no pictures, his office no color, with the only momento of any kind being a glass frame behind his desk, boasting a fancy degree.

 Peggy ignored that and went straight to his window. She had to be quicker this time, because unlike the first time, there were actually people in this building now. Thaddeus was on his lunch break, but an assistant or custodian could come in any minute.

 Peggy uncapped her tube of lipstick and started writing on the big window overlooking the city. When she was done, she capped it and flickered, reappearing on the sidewalk below.

 There was a bitter taste in her mouth. It was Angie’s birthday— or at least, it would have been.

 Peggy could still remember her big smile, hair pulled back in a respectable bun and top button of her uniform undone. The room was tiny, and they all sat, legs outstretched and tangled together, with little plastic cups in their hands, like a cocktail party. They’d been stuck there for a few hours by then, waiting for the authorities to stop searching the building. They would never be found in that bunker. The mission had been long and sweaty, but it’d been a success regardless. It always was with them, these wonderful women.

 Peggy had been too drained to be able to teleport anyone but herself, but even though she _could_ leave, she wouldn’t. These were her sisters in arms. They lived together, they fought together, and when they were stuck in a bunker like this waiting, they waited together.

 Peggy wasn’t about to make them wait in misery, though. So she popped out and returned ten minutes later with the cups and the whiskey. Morale went up startling fast after that, and they even sang Angie happy birthday, content in the bunker’s high-grade sound proofing.

 “I don’t care what anyone says,” Angie declared when they were each about three drinks in, “But you’re my family. And it’s been an honor working with you ladies.”

 It was the closest Peggy had felt to anyone since Steve and James had died. In that moment Peggy knew that even if the bunker wasn’t as hot as a sauna, her friends words would have warmed her to the core.

 Back in the present, Peggy teleported to the roof of a nearby building, jumping through space to go from the roof into the quinjet that was stationed there, waiting invisibly for its captain. She put it in the air, set it on autopilot, and then flicked into existence in the back corner, scooping up the bottle of whiskey there. It would only take about twenty minutes to get to DC, and then Peggy could take out the next victim on her list. _Angie, this one's for you,_ she thought bitterly, taking a swig.  


————————

**Steve**

  


 Steve didn’t actually expect Peggy to show up. Still, he couldn’t help jumping every time a woman with dark hair came in the little cafe, thinking it was her. It never was.

 After about an hour’s wait, he ordered some more food and pulled out his sketchbook. He wasn’t really in the mood to sketch, but flipping through it could at least distract him for a while.

 When he’d first gotten his sketchbook, he’d done dozens of drawings of all the people he’d lost. Eventually Tony had found it and looked through it, telling Steve that he needed to “pull his head out of his ass and stop being so damn sad, he’s upsetting Dum-E.” After that, Steve had tried to draw other things, but he had a bad habit of drawing the same two people whenever he needed comfort.

 He turned to the first page, and there she was: Peggy, in all her sparkly eyed, messy haired glory. It was a drawing from when she fought with the Commandos, her lips without their usual color and her bangs having fallen from her ponytail, but beautiful all the same. Maybe even more.

 Steve flipped to the next page. Now was not the time to think about Peggy. He needed to calm down; she didn’t even want to see him anymore. Fiancé or no, their interests were no longer as aligned as they’d once been.

 He flipped to the next page and took in a sharp breath. It was the other person he had sketchbooks full of: Bucky. This one was also from the days of the Howling Commandos— Steve must have been feeling extra nostalgic for spoiled rations and frozen toes that day. This one had Bucky grimy faced and determined, looking off to the side at someone and grinning mischievously. Knowing Buck, he’d probably been looking at Peggy. Those two would be the death of him, Steve knew. They’d gotten along like a house on fire. Their friendship had started with a competition where they’d tried to see who had the worst story about Steve, but had quickly blossomed from there. They had the same determination, just like Steve, but they also had something Steve didn’t have: anger.

 Steve closed the sketchbook. Today was not the day to get lost in memories again. He had to keep going. He had to try to think about something else, anything but Peg—

 His phone buzzed, and Steve almost fell out of his chair trying to get it. It wasn’t the burner phone, but the slick StarkPhone Tony insisted he carry. Speak of the devil.

  **From: Tony**

**Assemble**

**Quinjet in five**

**Another Ghost sighting**

 

**From: Natasha**

**On it**

 

**From: Sam**

**How many is this? Five?**

 

**From: Natasha**

**This is the fifth one we’ve been called on**

**They usually don’t have this sort of lead up, though**

**She said that Sitwell will die at 3pm. She’s giving us more than enough time to get there**

 

**From: Tony**

**Yeah, why is that? Why does she want us to be there?**

 

**From: Steve**

**It’s not about us**

**She’s sending a message**

 

**From: Sam**

**What message?**

 

**From: Steve**

**A message to the other people on her list**

**It’s not hard to get access to the footage from our suits**

**She’s trying to scare them**

 

**From: Sam**

**Could we use that to help narrow down her next victims?**

 

**From: Tony**

**I’ll put Jarvis on it**

 

———————————

  **_Peggy_**  


**** They almost caught her this time.

 Peggy landed half on a file cabinet and promptly fell off. Iron Man had surprised her, and she’d jumped without even planning where she wanted to land.

 She cursed as she got up, dusting herself off. She reappeared in the security room— locked, like that would stop her— and checked on the locations of all of the Avengers. Steve had just wandered into a storage room, searching for something, and she tutted under her breath, flipping a switch that shut and locked the door behind him. She pulled out her burner phone.

  **_Really, you walked right into that one_ **

**** On the camera, Steve pounded on the door, then checked his phone. He didn’t reply to the text message, instead choosing to pound on the door even harder, like he thought he could break the lock.

  **_The Avengers have already caused enough property damage. Why don’t you sit this one out?_ **

**** A pause, and then: **Is that really what you want**

**_Yes dear_ **

 Peggy checked the location of the other Avengers and then teleported right behind Sam, following him silently. “What do you mean you’re trapped?” Sam asked into his comm.

 Peggy dropped to the ground and swiped her foot out, sending Sam toppling forwards. She teleported in front of him before he could fall all the way and grabbed him by the arm, flipping him hard and knocking his breath out. He gasped, reaching for a weapon, but she shot one bullet directly into his chest, making him cry out. “That was your only warning shot,” she said, hoping it was quiet enough and that she’d suppressed her accent enough that it would be untraceable. “Stay down.”

 She quickly disarmed him, pulling out his comm and crushing it in her hand. When she was distracted with that, Sam kicked her hard and reached for his gun, but Peggy just cursed and reappeared behind him, slamming his head against the ground. He was knocked unconscious, and she brushed her clothes off, hissing at herself. She preferred not to do that, but he’d left her no choice unless she wanted to _actually_ shoot him. She’d spent enough time going over his equipment to know that he was wearing a bulletproof vest. Therefore, the bullet she’d aimed at his sternum wouldn’t puncture, but _would_ give him a rather nasty welt.

 She plugged a chip into his phone, watching it load while she walked down the hall. The others were all far enough away that she didn’t have to worry about being seen.

 This mission was special. After this, she was done getting the Avengers involved. Frankly, she had a rather painful conflict of interests with one Mister Spangles, and she’d already made her point clearly enough. This mission would be the last one that they got any warning for. She would let her final victim get comfortable in the knowledge that he’d have a warning, and then she’d take those warnings away.

 Because this was her last mission with the Avengers, she had to do something special. She wanted her #1 to know that there was nothing that would save him. Not even the Avengers.

 The file finished unloading, and annoyed, Peggy teleported back to Sam and tucked it under his unconscious body. This is why she didn’t drink before missions; she got sloppy.

 She had two down, two to go. She would never be able to get the comm away from Tony— to do that, she’d have to take his whole helmet, which was very unlikely— so instead, she teleported right behind Natasha. She had to be quick about this one; unlike Sam, Natasha was highly trained in hand to hand combat.

 Peggy appeared right behind her, wrapping her arm around her neck and digging her knife into her throat. She knew she should keep her accent hidden, but fuck it. She’d just try to tone it down a bit. “Shh. Hold still. I just need to tell you something.”

 Natasha was already ready to strike, but she paused, her curiosity winning out. “Yeah?”

 “I really like your shoes.” Peggy grabbed for her earpiece right as Natasha yanked the knife away and flipped her over her shoulder. Luckily, she got ahold of it in time, and it came out with the force of the flip. Peggy reappeared further down the hallway, crushed the comm in hand, and blew her a kiss before disappearing.  


————————

**Steve**

  


“Nat, come in! Natasha, are you there?”

 Nothing. No response. Steve didn’t know what happened, why out of the blue Sam, and then Natasha, had gone dark.

 Tony’s sigh was distorted by the electronics. “Fuck. It looks like we’re on our own.”

 Steve’s burner phone buzzed and he pulled it out, hoping to get some sort of explanation for what was happening. Instead, he just got instructions:

  **_Stand still. Don’t turn around. I know you have the camera on your uniform._ **

**** A chill went down Steve’s spine as he did as ordered, standing still and waiting for something to happen. He was hyper-aware of the camera on his chest, and purposefully kept the burner phone out of its view so no one could see the texts.

 A long minute passed, and then Peggy was behind him, her breath causing the hair to stand up all along his neck. Her fingernails ran along his skin, sharp in a way fingernails really shouldn’t be. Steve held his breath as he felt her hand move up, tracing over his ear, and then he winced as she pulled out the comm, not expecting it. He tried to look behind him, but she gently moved his head to look forwards again.

 There was the sound of the comm being crushed, and then a pause, like Peggy wasn’t quite sure what to do next. She settled for wrapping her arms around him, reaching up to nibble his ear a little, and then she was gone, so abruptly Steve stumbled forward.

 He tried to catch his breath. The logical side of his mind was freaking out, because now Tony would be all alone with no way to communicate with any of the team. It was hard to focus though, when the emotional part of his mind was chanting _Peggy! Peggy! Peggy!_

 

————————

 

 Finally, after a long wait, the door swung open to reveal Tony and Natasha. Tony was already out of his suit, and their grim looks told Steve everything he needed to know about whether or not they won.

 Steve, for his part, was sitting against the far wall, red in the face from letting himself give in so easily without even trying to catch Peggy. He’d had the opportunity, even, but one text and he was as still as a statue.

 What did it matter? It wasn’t like he’d be able to catch her anyways. If he grabbed her, she’d just teleport away. And then he’d probably lose all means of communication he did have with her.

 “Sitwell’s dead,” Tony said flatly. “She painted the number 4 on his clothes.”

 Steve nodded, tired. “Where’s Sam?”

 “She shot him.”

 He was on his feet in an instant. “What?!” Steve could live with Peggy killing people who might deserve it, but if anyone didn’t deserve to be shot, it was Sam. What did this mean? Had she been playing him? Had he underestimated her?

 Natasha rolled her neck out. “Calm down, his bulletproof vest stopped it. It’s going to be painful for a few days, but it’s nothing bad. She did knock him out though. He’s being checked out now.”

 Steve shook his head, like somehow the action would help him clear it. “I’m… sorry. I had no idea.”

 “Yeah, well. Our comms were broken.”

 Steve held out his own broken one, shoulders drooping. “Mine too.”

 “How’d she get you?”

 “Teleported in. Took it.”

 Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Without a fight?”

 Even not knowing how much he should trust Peggy, the urge to protect her came naturally. “Nah. She threatened me with a gun. She’d taken the comm and destroyed it before I could do anything.”  


———————  


 Thaddeus Ross paced a canyon into the carpet. He was about as stressed as Steve had ever seen him. “I just don’t understand how this could happen! You know that your jobs are to take care of this kind of threats, right? She’s killed how many people now, and what have you done? Nothing!”

 Steve did his best to ignore the furious Secretary of State. That was usually the best policy for him. Too often, Steve would let his morals take over, and seeing as the esteemed General Ross didn’t have any, it only ended in fights. It was much better to let Tony handle things. Tony knew how to talk to this particular breed of shark, and he knew that the argument couldn’t be about morals, because politicians didn’t have them.

 So no one noticed or cared when Steve hid his phone under the table and sent out a quick text.

  **I can’t believe you shot Sam.**

Peggy replied instantly, like she’d known the message was coming and was just waiting for it. **_His uniform is fitted with a bulletproof vest. It was a fear tactic_ **

**** **Well, it worked**

 

**_Is he alright?_ **

 

 **** **Sam’s fine. He’s resting. But you really worried me, there.**

**How many more of these are you planning on doing?**

**And what comes after that? What happens when this killing spree isn’t enough?**

**I have faith that you have a good reason for this. That’s the only reason I’m still in contact with you.**

**But you have to know that if you keep doing this, something will happen.**

**You could get hurt.**

 

**_Oh, please._**

 

 **** **You could!**

**Pegs, Secretary Ross is angry**

**I need you to turn yourself in**

**I promise I can take care of you**

**Tony’s got some amazing lawyers**

**But if you keep going like this, I’m worried it’ll be too late**

 

**_…_ **

**_First of all, you are right. I do have a plan. These aren’t random killings, and I promise you, I have good reason. I did everything I could to try and find another way, but there isn’t one. There was an injustice, and this is the only way to right it._**

 

 **** **By killing people????**

 

**_Steven, I am not done._ **

**_I am not going to turn myself in._ **

**_I do not need your protection._**

**_I can take care of myself._**

 

 **** **But you don’t have to**

 

**_Really?? You think that’s true??_ **

 

 **** **Pegs, I want to help.**

 

**_And I appreciate that. But did it ever occur to you that maybe your help is not what I need?_ **

**_I know you have good intentions, but Steve, please stop. You’re only making it harder on yourself._ **

**_After this mission, I’m done getting the Avengers involved. It served its purpose. I’m sorry to upset you._**

 

  **Don’t shut me out**

 

**_Don’t tell me what to do_ **

**_I have it under control_**

 

 **** **NO YOU DONT**

  


Peggy didn’t respond after that. Steve sighed. If only Bucky were here. He had always been able to get Peggy to see reason. Back in the war, when Peggy and Steve came up with some harebrained scheme, Bucky was the only one who was actually able to sort out the issues that came with whatever plan they had cooked up. He was their go-between. His words were rational, even when they were yelled, which was a lot. After he fell, their plans got increasingly more dangerous. And then one of them ended with Steve’s death.

 

 ————————

**_Peggy_ **

****

**** Peggy put her phone in her closet and closed the door on it.

 She wasn’t proud of what she did next, but she didn’t feel any shame over it either. She got out the bottle of whiskey and finished it while she took her bath. There was something beautiful about a scented bath and a bottle of whiskey, something majestic and romantic that she just couldn’t put her finger on. She reveled in the experience, taunting Steve the whole while. Steve, who couldn’t get drunk anymore. Steve, who thought he knew _everything._ Steve, Steve, Steve. Well, screw him. Peggy was her own woman. Steve’s constant begging and doubting and worrying were only bringing her down.  


—————————

 

 Three days later, Peggy was thinking about Steve again as she went over her outfit one last time, checking for any rogue tears or tea stains. Her dress was flashy, but loose enough that she could move in it, and long enough to cover her shoes underneath. She was wearing a sturdy pair of flats, the type she always wore on missions like these because they wouldn’t completely betray her intentions if someone did catch sight of them, while still allowing her a free range of motion. She did prefer the confidence that came from wearing heels, but Peggy was not in the interest of hobbling herself for the sake of a disguise. That was the same reason her hair was swept up in a showy but sensible updo.

 She took a few more steps, making doubly sure the dress didn’t impede her, and with one more quick brush over, she teleported inside. The party was exclusive, invite only, but once the people were actually inside no one bothered to check that they had a right to be there.

 Peggy was on the second story, so she walked down a flight of stairs, grabbing a champagne flute and putting on her best I-belong-here smile. All the while she scanned the crowd. Tonight’s counterfeit earning his just desserts was Councilman Rockwell. He was on the World Security Council, and Peggy knew for a fact that he was one of the people who’d fought against her Strike team most viciously. The American government knew that their best option was to grant her team immunity and start working with them. Their interests were, after all, aligned. But Councilman Rockwell had argued tooth and nail against them, claiming they were war criminals and should be executed as such.

 Of course, Rockwell lost, and her team was giving immunity. But apparently, immunity didn’t matter to some people.

 Peggy wasn’t going to kill him for disagreeing with the immunity. He was entitled to his opinion. She was going to kill him for what he did after.

 A hand brushed against Peggy’s arm and was grabbing her before she could pull away. She prepared to defend herself, but when she turned around it was just an overeager CEO trying to catch her attention before she ran off. “Hi,” he said, his smile only a little predatory. “I’m Justin Hammer, of HammerTech. We danced together at that Charity gala, right?”

 His tone clearly implied that he wanted to dance again. Peggy pressed her lips together. “No, I believe you have the wrong person.”

 “Ah, come on. I never forget a face.”

It was _such_ a garbage line that Peggy found herself shaking her head at the distastefulness of it all. “If you’d excuse me, I was actually looking for Councilman Rockwell. I already owe him a dance.”

 Hammer tapped his chin, mock thinking, and Peggy wondered if he’d ever actually thought for a moment in his life. “Really? I don’t see how that could be, seeing as he’s not here yet.”

 Peggy flashed him a brighter, slightly more vicious smile, and slapped his hand away from her arm without even trying to be subtle. “I know. I was meeting him here.”

 “So that means you have time! Come on doll, right this way, but I must warn you, some of the people I’ve danced with _have_ said I can get a little too excited—”

 Fed up, Peggy grabbed a fork off of a nearby table, grabbing Hammer’s arm and twisting it just enough to give her leverage as she pressed the tines of the fork underneath his ribs. He let out a squeak, but didn’t struggle, confirming that he had no sort of training whatsoever. “Just to be clear, this is pressing above your liver. It may be dull, but I’m determined. Keep smiling.” Hammer grunted in shock, but pasted a grimace onto his face. “Once you start to bleed, you’ll lose consciousness in one minute, and you’ll die in about five unless someone comes to your aid. Now given how many people at this party actually hate you, how likely do you think that is to happen?” She pressed a little harder and Hammer groaned through his teeth. “To prevent this not entirely unfortunate event from occurring, I suggest you find a new place to be. Do we understand each other?” Hammer nodded, and Peggy smiled.

 As soon as she released him he hurried away, shooting her one last, judgemental look. Peggy ignored it, pretending not even to notice as she continued walking, searching for the Councilman.

 She hardly made it five feet before noticing something. There was a man on the upper floor staring at her through the scope of a rifle. He was disguised, and Peggy couldn’t even tell _how_ ; he lurked in the shadows, the combination of perfectly placed light and metal railing keeping him completely hidden from the untrained eye. Peggy glanced around, but no one else saw him.

 The man stood, hiding his weapon for a moment. He was wearing all black, his entire face covered by a pair of goggles and a mask that covered from the bridge of his nose to the underside of his chin. His brown, ratty hair hung loosely, disguising him further.

 The balcony was high enough up that Peggy trusted no one else would see him if she didn’t bring attention to him. She’d been trained not to shoot first and ask questions later. The fact that the man hadn’t yet shot her suggested that he didn’t plan to, which meant that he was here for someone else.

 He glanced around stiffly, like someone might see him. Then he started tapping on the column beside him. Peggy immediately register the dots and dashes for what they were, and sipped her champagne casually as she deciphered the message.

 Who her 4

 He literally used the Morse code equivalent of the number four, not the letters. Peggy thought it through, mentally filling in the remaining words until she had a real message: _Who are you here for?_

 She made sure he was watching, them started tapping on her champagne glass purposefully. She let her eyes wander around the room, but the Councilman was still a no-show.

  _Rkwel,_ she said, hoping he’d be able to get ‘Rockwell’ from that. Most spies and spy-aligned looked down on talking to unknown agents, but in Peggy’s team, things had been different. The man clearly wasn’t here to kill her, and she wouldn’t mind if he killed Rockwell. The point wasn’t that _she_ killed him so long as he died.

 She let her eyes flicker back up to the assassin, arching an eyebrow in a question. _You?_

He shook his head, the motion tiny. She wondered if he was that inexpressive under the mask. She almost worried that he wasn’t going to tell her, when he started tapping again, spelling out a name.

 S… t… a… r…

 Peggy watched in horror as he spelled out the name _Stark_ and tilted his head at her expectantly.

 She shook her head, trying to be as subtle as possible and make up for the intensity with her eyes. _NO, not Stark._

Was Tony even here? Peggy looked around again, and this time found him. She shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, if HammerTech was here, it only made sense that a representative from SI would be too, but still! The one party Tony could have missed, the one event he could have called in sick for.

 Peggy couldn’t let the assassin kill Tony. Not only was he one of Steve’s best friends, he was a good guy. Steve held him in high esteem, which meant something. _And_ he was an Avenger. The world would be lost without him.

 Not to mention that he was Howard’s kid. _Shit._

The assassin didn’t seem convinced. _He’s good,_ Peggy tapped.

 The man shook his head, quickly tapping out another message. I don’t c—

 Peggy set the champagne flute on a table and moved behind a column, stepping into the darkness of space and coming out on the other side right behind the man. He turned, though she’d been silent, and she hissed “Who do you take your orders from?”

 He, apparently, was no longer in the mood for talking. He swung at her and on instinct she jumped into the space behind him, hitting his back with a brutal front kick. He stumbled forwards, but less than she’d wanted. She teleported just a few feet to the left, dodging his brutal kick before she ever could have seen it. He recovered quickly, spinning and swinging a fist into the air where she’d been.

 They fought completely silently, any noises they made getting absorbed by the noise coming from the crowd below. Peggy attacked and made herself keep shifting through space to dodge his blows, and the one time she tried to deflect, he hit her with inhuman force. Something in her shoulder cracked and she flew backwards, landing on her feet behind the assassin before her butt ever hit the ground.

 The assassin fought like he was desperate for it, like he hadn’t had a good fight in ages. He fought like it was fun, and his style quickly shifted to match hers. He stopped with all of his moves that included brutal force hitting straight on, and switched to more dynamic ones, the type that wouldn’t leave him with too much momentum if she moved before they could land. Peggy found herself meeting his style too, jumping multiple times a second to keep up with his inhuman speed. At one point, the man had her distracted enough by the fight that she fell for a feint, and by the time she’d reappeared he was running.

 Peggy cursed. He was running towards Stark, giving himself enough space to pull his gun and shoot before Peggy could get to him.

 Peggy disappeared and reappeared in the air, blocking the shot. The gun went off silently and tore through multiple layers of her dress as she fell on top of him, pushing him roughy to the ground.

 Peggy didn’t bother with any more fighting. Below them, the sounds of the party had been replaced by the sound of a man’s voice, speaking loudly and with a lot of inflection, getting huge responses from the audience. For a moment, Peggy’s heart panged. Tony sounded so much like his father.

 Howard had, apparently, lived into his seventies. Peggy hoped the same for his son. Of course, that wouldn’t happen if the assassin killed him first.

  _Screw it all,_ she decided, and jumped into the emptiness of space. She landed on the raised platform and only got to hear the sounds of horror and shock for a brief moment before jumping back into space, dragging Tony with her. They landed in an empty office across the street, and before she could even let go of him Tony had wriggled out of her grip, kicking her with little power, but good form. She didn’t have time for this. She teleported to stand by his opposite leg and wrapped her hand around his throat while he was unbalanced, slamming him against the wall with the force of all her rage. He stared at her, not quite submitting, but not having decided on a way out either. She stared him down, her face inches from his and her hand around his throat.

 “Listen to me, Stark,” she growled. “Right now you have one job, which is to sit down, and shut up. Don’t get in my way.”

 She shoved him away, reappearing in the ally behind the first building. She didn’t even have a moment to think before a horrific creature was dropping from the sky, dressed in black leather and looking like something that had flown here from hell. It landed on its haunches and stood, but not all the way, still crouched in preparation for a fight. It was the assassin, and he wasn’t done with her.

 As the night drew on, Peggy was only getting angrier. The initial task of killing Rockwell had been invigorating enough. Seeing these men and knowing what they’d done was enough to make her sick to her stomach. But now, this assassin wanted to kill the son of her old friend, maybe the last remnant in the world of the glory and grace of Howard Stark.

 Steve said that Peggy was alone, that she needed companionship. He was right, but her lack of company wasn’t for lack of trying. When she loved, she loved hard. She would follow a friend to the end of the world, and when they died, she would protect their memories with everything she had. She cared immensely for her fellow soldiers: the Commandos, with their deadly grace and raucous laughter; her Strike team, with their big smiles and creative approaches. She longed for the night shifts with Dot, staring up at the stars and talking about life. She longed for the days sitting with Howard in his lab, both of them running on 48 hours of no sleep and a dozen cups of coffee. She longed for the days even earlier than that, during the war, when she and Steve and James would all sit around an ugly little table and play cards, trash talking the whole while. At the time, Steve had been her love, but James had been her friend. She’d realized only recently how important having friends was.

 The assassin’s goggles glowed in the moonlight, and he raised his gun, as if preparing to shoot. She knew what he was doing: he wasn’t actually going to shoot, because if he was, he would have already taken the shot. No, he was waiting. He knew that she would teleport right behind him, hoping to catch him off guard, and when she did he would swing around and strike, already prepared. This man was no longer a danger to Stark, but she didn’t care. Ana always told Peggy her pride was a mile wide and as tall as a building. She was right. That probably should have made Peggy want to take a step back, admit that this wasn’t a necessary fight, and let him go. Peggy definitely should have done that.

 But instead she teleported, not behind the man, but in front of him, bringing the butt of her gun down on his head as he turned, his body going through the commands he’d already given and not adjusting to the new data quickly enough. Metal hit bone, and he crumpled like a rag doll.

 Peggy dumped him in an empty room in a different building than she’d dumped Stark, fully intending to come back and find out more about the mysterious soldier who wanted Tony dead. But first, she had a mission to complete.

 She closed her eyes and focused, narrowing in on Rockwell. It wasn’t hard. All she had to do was think of that receding hairline, the frown lines set deep in his wrinkled face, the sickly straight posture, his body strong, but thin enough that he looked like a strong breeze might blow him over. When Peggy opened her eyes, she was in the men’s restroom, and he was washing his hands at the sink. She spun him and shoved him back against the sinks, water splashing over the both of them. Her lipstick tube was already in hand, and the number _2_ was scrawled over his shirt pocket before he could try and shove her away. She dropped the lipstick back inside the pockets she had added to her dress, shoving him back. “You killed them,” she accused, the rage she’d been holding in for so long coming back just at the sight of him. “You broke our deal!”

 He saw the gun in her hand and already knew he was a dead man, so with his final breath he spat at her. “They _deserved to die!_ ” Peggy fired the gun.

 The bullet hit with deadly force, making his head snap back against the bathroom mirror, cracking it. Peggy panted for a moment, looking down at the body. All of her anger was gone. Despite the rumors, she took no joy in killing. But it had to be done.

 When she reappeared in the building with the assassin, she felt completely and utterly drained. Her dress was ruined, and she smelled like the Councilman’s blood.

 The assassin was still out cold, and for a moment Peggy considered leaving him there without ever bothering to find out who he worked for. But she couldn’t do that; it would leave Tony in danger. So she knelt, unbuckling the goggles and mask and peeling them away from his sweaty skin. The face she saw beneath them made her gasp, covering her mouth with her hands in horror.  


————————

**Steve**

 

Steve was asleep when he got the message. Luckily, he kept the burner phone under his pillow for that exact purpose, and it woke him up.

 He rolled into his side, pulling out the phone and running a hand through his hair groggily. His eyes were still blinking into focus, and he rubbed the remaining sleep from them as he stared at the screen. And stared. And stared.

 After a fight and two days of silence, Peggy had texted him out of the blue. Not an apology or an insult, but an address.

 Steve was up in moments, scrambling to get dressed in dark, loose clothing. He stuffed his feet into sneakers and was out the front door, not considering for a moment to bring his shield, or another weapon along for the ride. If Peggy decided to kill him, he’d have to fight her without one.

 But he knew, in the back of his mind, that Peggy would never try to kill him.

 The address wasn’t far, so Steve walked. He knew that getting a cab at this hour would be unlikely, and besides, he was too nervous to sit still anyways.

 Google Maps led him to an abandoned warehouse, looking rusted and like it was only days from falling apart altogether. Steve slipped inside, trying to stay as silent as possible as he looked around. The only light came from the moon, streaming in through busted windows.

Steve stepped on a piece of glass and it cracked under foot. Just like that, the world was thrown into sharp, vivid color, the huge industrial lights turning on with the intensity of the sun and Peggy appearing directly before him, angry and aglow with power. His angel metaphor from before suited her perfectly now, awash with the light of heaven.

 Then the lights flickered, and one fell, crashing down across the warehouse from them. Peggy didn’t flinch, and she didn’t look away. The heavenly brightness flickered out, and only some of the lights remained on, giving them enough dull, yellows light that they could see each other and their surroundings.

 “Peggy,” Steve breathed, but Peggy didn’t bring him here for a reunion. Her body twitched, going only semi-solid for a moment before flickering back to solid. “I have something to tell you,” she admitted.

 She lead him through the warehouse to the back, stepping over the fallen light. There was a figure against a mass of pipes, dressed in all black with his arms tied behind him. He was unconscious, and his stringy brown hair covered his face.

 Steve’s mind raced. After denying his requests to meet for so long, here Peggy was, acting like seeing Steve was the least interesting part of her day. Steve wished that that upset him more. It didn’t, though, because at least Peggy had called him at all.

 She stood to the figures side and looked at Steve expectantly. Steve stepped forwards carefully, knowing of her affinity for traps, but seeing none. Finally he stopped, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. In response, she grabbed the unconscious man and pulled his head up, revealing his face.

 Steve’s throat and chest tightened all at once. It would have hurt less if she’d cut his lungs out and deflated them like balloons, if she’d taken his heart and crushed it underfoot. Because Steve _recognized_ this man.

 He swallowed, hard. “Bucky?”

 

————————

 

 Bucky was in horrible shape. His hair was tangled and sweaty, longer than he’d ever liked it, and his body was stiff, uniform filthy with traces of a fight. The worst part was his face. His shave job was patchy, like whoever had done it hadn’t cared a bit about the end result. His skin was weathered, his eyes sunken. There must have been a gash somewhere around his temple, because blood was smeared in his hair and on his skin. Despite all of this, it was 100%, without a doubt, Bucky. Steve could recognize him anywhere, anytime. Even in a dumpy warehouse in 2018.

 When he was still unconscious, Steve had checked his arm bindings, making sure they were secure. Whatever had happened to him, it had included some type of violence, and if Peggy thought he needed to be restrained then Steve would respect her judgement.

 “He’s got a metal arm,” Steve noted unhappily. The arm in question, the left one, was covered in a thick black grease paint that kept it from reflecting light. Bucky had had both arms in the war.

 Peggy hovered somewhere near his shoulder, watching the both of them as if unsure who would be the first to attack. She didn’t relax. “He has superhuman strength, at least in that arm. I’m hoping they’re unbalanced, so he can’t break the ropes without hurting his other arm.”

 It was smart. Even if he did have equal amounts of strength in both arms, the positioning meant that any break out was unlikely. It was like splinting a broken leg with your other leg. If they’d tied him to a pipe of something, then he’d have something to pull against. This way, that wasn’t an option.

 Steve’s head felt full and thick and warm, his brain simmering like a pot of chili abandoned over a campfire. On one side, he had Peggy. On the other, Bucky. They were both alive, both here, but neither of them was fine. Steve could feel his protective instincts rear up, but he didn’t know who he was supposed to save first.

 When he looked back up, he found that Bucky was awake. Steve put his hand on his shoulder awkwardly. “Hey, Buck. How’re you feeling?”

 No response. Bucky didn’t even try to talk, just narrowed his eyes at him with the fiercest glare Steve had ever seen. Steve swallowed and turned around to see what Peggy made of this, only to find her gone. His heart sunk. “Peg—”

 “He was just unconscious,” she declared, reappearing exactly where she’d been before, this time with a water bottle, which she handed to Steve. “He needs hydration. I’ve got some protein bars, but let’s wait to see how much he remembers before trying to hand feed him.”

  _How much he remembers?_ Peggy couldn’t mean—

 She sighed, and Steve realized that’s exactly what she did mean. He looked back at Bucky, still glaring at him with his jaw clenched, a wild animal waiting for the chance to strike. _Listen to Peggy,_ he reminded himself, and uncapped the water bottle, bringing it to Bucky’s lips. Bucky pulled away, and finally, Steve had to clasp his hand around the back of his neck to get him to hold still. “Stay still, I’m just trying to—”

 When his hand came close enough, Bucky lashed out, biting him. Steve yelped and dropped the water bottle, clasping his hand. He was _bleeding,_ what the—

 Then Peggy was kneeling directly in front of Bucky, reaching her hand out. Steve tried to say something, but the warning died in his throat. “You don’t remember us, do you?” She said softly. She was staring right into his eyes, and they seemed to reach an understanding. “You need to drink some water to remain operational.”

 She stroked his hair softly, then rested her hand on the back of his neck so he couldn’t pull away. She tried to brush a strand of hair out of his face, and as soon as she touched him he lashed out again, snapping with his teeth. They went right through her fingers— as in literally right through, because her fingers were no longer solid. She didn’t even react besides tutting, and reprimanding him with a “Uh-uh, listen to Peggy.”

 When she finally got him to drink, he gulped down the water like he couldn’t get enough, spilling on himself. She tried to pulled back, but he wasn’t having it, clamping down on the bottle with his teeth and yanking it from her grip. He tilted his head all the way back and chugged it, like the purest, strongest vodka. When he was done, he whipped his head to the side, and the bottle flew and hit Steve in the face. “Hey!”

 “I told you you were thirsty,” Peggy said softly, her voice ringing with a little of the familiar _I’m Peggy Carter and I’m always right_ tone. It was painfully familiar. Even with Bucky right there, Steve couldn’t help but gape at Peggy _._ She was so much, so full of life and so full of _Peggy._ Every move she made was her own, every twitch of her lips and raise of her eyebrows signified something unique, something different.

 He was staring at her, and she was looking at him, giving him a challenging eyebrow raise. He couldn’t make himself feel shame, though. Just because the sun would ruin your eyes if you looked at it too long didn’t mean that you’d stop looking.

Bucky cleared his throat, like they were making this awkward for him. Peggy turned her attention back to him, and begrudgingly, Steve did too. “Who do you work for?” She asked, voice clear and commanding. He didn’t respond, so she tried again. “Were you supposed to check in after your assignment?”

 He hesitated, then nodded.

 “What will happen if you don’t check in?”

 He hesitated longer this time. So far, he hadn’t said a word, and this wasn’t the type of question that could be answered with a nod or shake of the head. He tried anyways, shaking his head, but it meant nothing.

 “I don’t understand.”

 He dipped his head, exhaling tiredly.

 “Here,” Steve said, surprising himself, “let me try.”

 Peggy looked dubious, but teleported back to standing, giving Steve space. Steve leaned forwards, carefully cupping Bucky’s face. It was his face, that was for sure. “Look,” Steve murmured, “I don’t know how you’re here. I don’t know what happened, or why you’re like this, but it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out, alright? It’s me. It’s Stevie.”

 The urge to touch him more filled Steve’s head and before he fully understood what he was doing, he was leaning his forehead in, touching it against Bucky’s. He could hear his friend’s ragged breaths, feel his body tremble against him. They shared one magical moment like that, forehead to forehead, like those dragon movies where the person made the dragon their friend just by stroking their nose. It was very much a taming-the-beast moment, whimsical and surreal, unlike anything else.

 Then the moment ended, and Bucky pulled away and snapped his head back, hitting his forehead against Steve’s nose with so much force Steve fell backwards. The snap was audible, and pain rushed up Steve’s sinuses. He cupped his hand around it, groaning.

 “Well, that was absolutely brilliant,” Peggy said dryly behind him. “No, really. I’m touched. Has anyone ever told you you’re 200 pounds of idiot in a 10 pound body?”

 Steve pinched his nose lightly, hissing in pain. “Not… true. I’m 200 pounds of idiot in a 200 pound body.”

 Peggy snorted, and Steve hid his smile with his hand. “Well, I’d say that’s enough violence for one night. James, just give a holler if you need us, alright?” She winked at him, and Bucky gave her a dry, annoyed look. Clearly, he would not be ‘hollering’ anytime soon.

 Peggy took Steve’s arm and pulled him up, leading him through the warehouse to a section on the side. It was mostly hidden from view with pipes and large machinery, but it appeared to be a little living area. There was a cot and some basic supplies, just the bare minimum.

 Steve felt sick. “Is this where you’ve been living?”

 She gave him a look like she truly believed he was the dumbest person she’d ever met. “Clearly not; why would I show you to where I’ve been living? Then I’d have to move, and you know they say moving is the number one cause of stress among Americans.” That was… absolutely ridiculous, irrelevant, and also probably straight up wrong. Peggy had killed six people in the past month; if anything, moving houses would be a relaxing day off for her.

 “Don’t look at me like that,” she commanded, straightening the sheets on the bed. “This isn’t my home; it’s a safe house. I had a feeling Barnes would be violent. Better have him throw a fit here than somewhere with, dear me, _neighbors_.”

 Steve felt like a chunk of marble: big, dumb, and without a sculptor to mold and order him, useless. He went through what she’d said again, feeling five times slower than usual. When he spoke, his voice came out hoarse. “You have a home?”

 She looked up at him, pitying. “Yes.”

 “Do you live with someone? Is that who—”

 She took in a shape breath, saying “Steven—” like she meant to reprimand him, but stopping herself. “No. I do not have a roommate. But that doesn’t mean I’m alone.”

 He still felt like a marble idiot, but there’d been a question nagging at the back of his mind for a long time now, and this may be the only time he got to ask. “Are you seeing someone?”

 She laughed, actually laughed. It wasn’t silent, like on the scaffolding, but full and warm and familiar. “Steve, you think I have time to care about dating right now?”

 “Is that a no?”

 “I don’t know,” she said, her voice a little softer. She took a step closer to him, eyes raised in challenge. “Am I seeing anyone?”

 “I mean…” he swallowed hard. “We never technically broke up.”

 “No, I suppose we didn’t. There was that whole thing where you died, however—”

 “Rude of me, I know,” he agreed. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

 “I suppose I could forgive you. Seeing as I died three years later.”

 He reached out, snagging her hands in his like she might float away if he didn’t. The wave of nausea had returned. “Pegs. Don’t talk like that.”

 “It’s true,” she continued, ignoring his protest. Or rather, addressing it. Protesting his protest. “Howard’s machine malfunctioned. I was… dissolved. Lost to space, scattered throughout the world like a pollutant. I’m alive now, but I was dead for some time.”

 He surged forwards, pulling her into a hug. She tensed, but after a moment returned it with crushing effort. She pulled away just as quickly. “Alright. Enough of that. I have… things to do, I have… I have to check my wounds, I have to—”

 “Wounds?”

 Peggy went a little pink. “Oh. You didn’t hear yet?”

 “Hear what?”

 “Oh. This is awkward.”

 Steve stepped forwards. “Peggy. Hear what.”

 Her lips twitched upward in an embarrassed flutter of a smile, and then she winked and disappeared. Steve lunged for where she’d been, like he could pull her back into reality just by trying hard enough. It didn’t work, and Steve let out a frustrated noise, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

 Peggy was back a few minutes later, appearing mid step and announcing “You know, I’ve never understood the appeal of Ramen noodles. They’re cheap, but they’re not as convenient as one would think, especially when you have to boil the water _before_ mixing it in—”

 “Peggy!” Steve announced, standing. He hadn’t been sure if she’d come back.

 She looked at him strangely, like _yes, it’s me, why are you so excited?_ “—And it tastes good, I suppose, but it’s so high in sodium. I already have to drink so much water, and now I have to drink even more to keep from getting dehydrated just because of a silly flavor pack. I brought you some too, by the way.”

 She handed him a cup of noodles, still smiling awkwardly. Steve took them.

 “Oh, forks! I’ll just—” Peggy flickered, disappearing for a full second before reappearing with two forks, handing one to Steve. She then sat on the end of the bed, stirring her own cup.

 Steve just kept staring at her dumbly. Finally, he sighed. “Pegs. You’re going to give me an aneurysm.”  


————————

 

 They fell into a comfortable rhythm. Upon silent agreement, they gave up on talking about difficult things for the night and went back to light, trivial topics. It was like when they were texting and Steve asked her something that he knew wouldn’t get a reply, and in order to get her typing again he’d have to change the subject. Except, unlike typing, he could see her face: the little smiles she shared when he mentioned something nice, the way that smile grew when he spoke of a mistake he’d made, usually on the field. She would shake her head too, but it did nothing to dampen that smile.

 She didn’t seem very talkative herself, so Steve went ahead and filled the air with his own words, watching closely to gauge her reactions. There were a few things that she reacted strangely too, however; a mention of Secretary Ross, which made her scowl; a mention of Tony, which made her nearly choke on her ramen; and a mention of Sam, which made her grin a little guiltily. He could let the other reactions slide, but this was something he had to know. “Okay, come on. Out with it. What are you not telling me about Sam?”

 Peggy turned her face away, collecting herself, then cleared her throat. Her smile didn’t falter. “Nothing. I’m just reminiscing on the time we spent together.”

 “What?”

 “Not like that,” she clarified, annoyed. “ _Fighting._ Tell me, are all men as obsessed with romance as you?”

 “I’m not obsessed,” he defended, regardless of if that statement was true or not. “I just… think about it. Sometimes. When talking to you.”

 She sniffed. “I suppose it makes sense. We were engaged, after all.”

 Steve risked it, reaching out to clasp her hand. “It sounds like we still are.”

 This was the moment; the moment Peggy would crush his dreams. But she just sniffed again, not meeting his eyes. Her poker face was without fault. “Engagements aren’t legally binding; we are whatever we want to be.”

 Well, if that wasn’t a roundabout answer. It wasn’t a straight up denial, but it also wasn’t confirmation. All it did was make Steve more confused.

 Peggy stood, set her empty cup aside, and announced tiredly that she was going to shower. “You should get some sleep; it’s late.”

 Steve looked around. There was only one bed. Did she mean—?

 As if reading his mind, she pursed her lips, containing what might have been a smile. “I hear the floor is nice this time of year.”

 Steve nodded glumly and got up. He shouldn’t have been surprised. She wanted her space, he could respect that.

 “Steve, I’m joking. If you slept on the floor the rats would eat you in your sleep. I’m sure we can share the bed; I trust that you’ll remember boundaries.”

 Ah, yes, boundaries. Steve had heard of those. “Oh. Okay.” He hesitated. “Are there rats? Because Bucky—”

 “Steven, I am sure that if there are rats, they’ll keep as far away from him as possible. Now get some rest; I’ll be out in a minute.”

 She went into a small attached bathroom, and Steve could hear the shower running inside. He wondered if that had been there before, or if she’d put it in when she was outfitting this place to be her safe house.

 Steve climbed into bed, keeping to one side, and pretending to sleep. After a few minutes, Peggy came out, padding around a little before climbing in beside him. He could feel her warmth, feel her shift beside him. She was _so close,_ he could just reach out and touch…

 He jolted when he felt a hand on his back. “Sorry,” Peggy whispered, “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Her tone had just a pinch of teasing in it, like she’d known he wasn’t really asleep and was calling him on his bluff. Steve shifted back.

 “Yes, you did, actually. Now I’ll have to start my REM cycle all over again.”

 She chuckled, and then realized something. “Oh! Your nose—!”

 He rolled over, facing her. She scanned his face, frowning a little. “It healed,” Steve explained. “I don’t think it was even broken in the first place.”

 It had bled enough that it may actually have been broken, but Steve’s healing factor was advanced enough that he believed it could have actually healed fully in what little time he’d given it. He’d washed the blood off too, earlier, when they were settling down, so it probably looked normal.

 “Oh,” Peggy exhaled. “That’s… good.”

 They were close, very close. Under the sheets, their feet were only inches from touching. Above the sheets, there was a little more space between them, but not all that much. Steve wanted to close the gap; he wanted to hold her. He wanted—

 “Goodnight,” Peggy whispered, and turned around. Steve swallowed and did the same, so they were back to back.

 “Goodnight.”

  
 The warehouse was cold, and likely unsafe. Somewhere in the distance, he heard water _tap tap tapping_ , like a leaky faucet. The cot was old, and the mattress cheap. At the compound, Steve’s mattress and bed sheets were expensive, made of good materials and soft to the touch. His room at the compound would be more comfortable. Regardless, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Peggy_ **

 

Steve’s phone buzzed sometime around six in the morning, waking her up. Peggy rolled her eyes, but she was already awake, and curiosity won out. She sat up and teleported over to the crate the phone was resting on, checking it.

 

**From: Sam**

**Hey, we’re still planning on running, right? Did you get an early start?**

 

“Wow,” Steve said, his voice low and still gruff from sleep. “That’s a new low, even for you. Spying on my texts? So possessive. So rude.”

He was making fun of her, Peggy realized. She made an annoyed noise and reappeared beside him, handing him the phone. “It’s Sam. He’s wondering if you’re still going running.”

“Nope,” Steve said, popping the ‘p’. He didn’t even have to think about it. It warmed Peggy’s heart, but Peggy thought with her brain, not her heart, and her brain was annoyed.

“You should go,” Peggy prodded. “No need to completely disrupt your schedule.”

He looked at her carefully, analyzing. “You want me to leave. Why?”

She huffed. “It’s not that. But, if you’re planning on spending the rest of the day with me— which I hope you are— wouldn’t it be good to see the others first? That way they don’t worry.”

It worked exactly as she’d hoped. His eyes widened, and he climbed out of bed quickly, pausing only to deal with the headrush before marching on, ever the soldier. “Okay. I’ll… do that. Would you text him back for me? Tell him I couldn’t sleep, and that I’ll meet him at the park in 15.”

She did so. Sam responded immediately with a **Great! Bet I can make it there in ten**.

He slipped out quickly, his only goodbye being a quick kiss to her head. Peggy stiffened, and Steve froze, as if only just realizing what he’d been doing. “Oh. I. Um. I’d better hurry if I want to beat Sam.”

“You’d better,” she agreed, handing him the phone. He also had one in his pocket— why on Earth did he have two phones?

Oh. _Oh._ One of them was the one he used to text Peggy. Right. Right.

Peggy made use of her time, teleporting back to her apartment, which was decently close, and cleaning up. She checked her wounds, but she’d mostly only gotten scrapes and bruises. It was to be expected. At this point, her body was just a patchwork of pinks, grays and greens.

Peggy made herself breakfast, and then scrambled a few eggs. She teleported back to the part of the warehouse where James was, announcing her presence with some light chatter. “Up and at em! I made breakfast, no need to thank me. I do, however, accept gift cards and seasonal fru—” she stopped. James was staring at her, one eyebrow raised. The shadows that had covered his vision the night before were gone, and he looked at her expectantly.

“You and Rogers are fucking pathetic,” he grumbled. His voice was low and scratchy from disuse. “Is that what you call pillowtalk? Jesus. I could do better than that, and I haven’t been with a girl since ‘45.”

Peggy got over her initial shock quickly, continuing walking with only a brief pause. She knelt in front of him, adjusting the plate of eggs on her lap. “I’m shocked. Nothing attracts a woman more than a complete lack of personal hygiene.” She gave his greasy hair a judgmental look.

“And a good old fashioned brain-washing,” James added. “Hydra got to me. I’ve been a trained assassin for them for at least a few years. What year is it now?”

“2018.”

“Well, fuck.” He twisted a little, his arms still tightly behind him.

Peggy gave him a cautious look. “You were still under their influence last night. What changed?”

He kept twisting, trying to get comfortable but unable. “I wasn’t reset. They usually wipe my memory by using… electricity? Hell if I know. But, um. There’s a machine, and they use it to wipe me every night I’m out of the freezer. But last night, they couldn’t.”

Peggy nodded, slowly. “How much do you remember?”

He tilted his head side to side. “A little. I didn’t recognize you guys at first, but after listening to your shitty attempts at flirting I remembered. You’re Peggy, and he’s Steve. The three of us were in the same unit, right?”

“Almost. But you knew Steve before. Steven Grant Rogers, your friend since childhood.”

“Gesundheit.”

“But yes, you met me during the war. I was sent forward in time and Steve was frozen for 70 years. Everyone else is dead, though.”

She regretted her words a little after they’d come out, but luckily James didn’t seem bothered. “Well, shit. I’m sure I’d be a lot more upset if I remembered fuckin’ anyone.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “Now, I made eggs.”

“I can’t eat with my hands tied behind my back.”

“Yes you can. You don’t use your hands to chew, do you?”

“Why can’t you untie me?” He challenged, tilting his chin up. “You’ve already proven that you can win in a fight against me. I’m not going to try to get away or anything, and even if I did, you could take me. So what’s the harm?”

Peggy shrugged and moved forwards, stopping when she was halfway standing and looking at James again. “You’re tricking me,” she realized. “You’re using my ego against me.”

He held out his innocent look for a long moment before cracking, grinning. The expression was harsh on his face, what with the messy hair and poor shave, a thick scar across one cheek. “Well, sweetheart, it’s not like it’s hard.”

After that, Peggy decided, officially, to wait until Steve got back to consider untying him.

She tried to scoop some scrambled eggs onto a fork and get James to eat it that way, but whenever the fork came close he leaned away. They kept up this dance for a solid two minutes before she gave in with a “Dammit Barnes, _eat!”_

“I _can’t,_ you _whore,_ ” he said, and if it was anyone else Peggy may have been offended, but with James it just meant he was coming back to himself. James was the king of using insults as terms of endearments. “If I eat that, I’ll vomit!”

“Well why didn’t you tell me that before?!” She yelled, more out of annoyance than anything else.

“I didn’t realize before!” He yelled back. “Don’t you have something… I don’t know, less greasy? Plainer? A feeding tube, perhaps?”

She stared at him, gobsmacked. “A feeding tube.”

“Yes, a motherfucking feeding tube.”

“Oh, how silly of me to forget. I have one right here! Now tell me, what flavor would you like your pre-digested stomach sludge?”

“Stomach sludge all comes in one flavor, and also, you don’t taste it. That’s the point of the _tube.”_

“What’s going on over there?”

Peggy and James both looked up. Steve was behind them, storming over with his Captain America voice and posture in full effect. Peggy was pretty sure she and James rolled their eyes in unison. “It’s fine Steve, I have it under control.”

“Bucky?”

James groaned and sat back on his heels. Steve scurried over, kneeling before him with a kicked puppy expression on his face. He cupped James’ face in his hands. “Bucky, you’re back, you remember—”

James lashed out and bit him again, making Steve scurry back. His face fell. “Bu-Bucky? Peggy, what happened, I thought he remembered?”

“I do remember, dick-for-brains,” James snapped, giving him a less menacing and more pissed off glare. “I remember like, two weeks worth of information and that’s fucking it. But regardless of what I remember, I know as a sure fucking fact that I don’t like things touching my face, so back the fuck up or I’ll show you just how much I fucking remember—”

“James!” Peggy chastises, and then “Steve!”

Both of them look at her, as if just remembering her presence. “What?” They asked in unison.

She huffs. “Steve, this is not the best time. Why don’t you go and do some push ups or something? Surely your workout isn’t already over.”

Steve pouted, but stood. “Go do some push-ups, she says. Keep working out, she says. I’m not just a piece of meat, you know.”

“I’d beg to differ,” James mumbled. Luckily, Steve didn’t hear him.

“Fine. I trust you Peggy; but I’m coming back in ten minutes.”

“Fine, that’s great!” Peggy waited until he’d left, then muttered. “Big baby.”

“Was he that big in the war?” James whispered, watching Steve very closely as he walked off. “Or is this a recent development?”

Peggy turned, joining James in his Steve-watching. Steve’s form was definitely… easy on the eyes. Had he gotten bigger? No, Peggy didn’t think so. Except… were his thighs always that well-muscled?

“I’m thirsty,” James said, bringing her back to reality. “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty. Do you know what I’m thirsty for?”

“I can guess.” Peggy turned around, ignoring the pink blush across her cheeks. “Where were we?”

“We were talking about how thirsty I am,” he reminded her, “And how right now the only thing in the world that could hydrate me—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Peggy begged.

“The one thing that could quench my thirst?” James continued, happily ignoring her. “The one thing in life, that could bring everything full circle? That could, ahem, _complete_ me? Do you know what that is?”

“Please don’t say it.”

“One helping of delicious, girthy—”

“I’m begging you.”

“All-American—”

“Don’t say it—!”

“ _Cock_ ,” he finished, looked pleased with himself. “It’s all I want. All I need.”

Peggy made a face. “You’re vile.”

“Maybe. But do you know what else I am? I am queer as _fuck_ and hungry for some super soldier jerky. I may not remember much, but I do know that being gay is A-okay in good old ‘Merica, and I’m going to take advantage of it. Do you know how much it sucks to have a sexual identity crisis when the only men around you are Nazis?”

“No, I—”

“I’m going to take full fucking advantage of the 21st century. I’m going to go march in Pride. I’m going to kiss men in public. I’m going to have threesomes, _fuck,_ so many threesomes. I’m going to see the world—”

“I swear to God.”

“—and I’m going to let the world see me,” he finished, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes,” Peggy deadpanned. “As soon as the rest of that 70 years of brainwashing wears off, you’ll be ripe for the picking. Now, we were talking about breakfast? You’re sure you can’t eat the eggs?”

“Positive.”

“Fine. Steve!” She called. “I made eggs! You can have them if you want!”

“Okay, thanks Pegs!” He called back.

James looked way too content for what the situation called for. He sighed wistfully.

“Don’t you even think about that,” Peggy reprimanded. “He’s my fiancé.”

“Sweetheart, I listened to your entire conversation last night. It sounds like neither of you knows what your status is, which hey, fine with me. I don’t need to keep him forever. I just want to bang like bunnies for like, one long weekend. You could live without him for one weekend, right?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Peggy reiterated. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you some food that doesn’t make you sick.”

“You’re a _doll_.”  


————————

 

Peggy came back ten minutes later with a bowl of flavorless porridge. She had tried a bite earlier, and it’s flavor had most closely resembled that of liquid cement. She hoped it’d be good enough.

When she teleported back, she’d expected to find James in the same mood as before. Instead, she found Steve kneeling in front of him— a few feet away, because apparently he had learned his lesson after all— talking to James in a soothing, quite tone. James looked like he was just coming down from crying.

“See? Everything will be alright,” Steve reassured, so soft and full of emotion that Peggy almost sat down and had a good cry too. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe now. I promise I won’t let them get to you again.”

“We both promise,” Peggy said, stepping closer. Both of them looked up, but neither tried to move away, accepting her into their circle of emotions without effort. “Things will get better.”

When James swallowed, the scar on his cheek rippled. A lock of dirty hair fell to cover his eyes, and Peggy knelt, pushing it away. “I brought you another breakfast,” Peggy said, stroking his hair lightly with the hope that it’d make him feel better. “Are you ready to eat it?” 

He nodded, so Peggy started to spoon feed him. She didn’t feel very comfortable with taking the binds off yet, especially after his spectrum of emotional outbursts.

He managed to eat the entire bowl and even keep it down. “I’ll be back in a minute with water,” Peggy promised. “Steve, a word?” 

Before he could respond, Peggy was looping her arm around his waist and carrying him through space, dumping him on the ground in the alley outside. “What happened?”

Steve stumbled forward and fell against the wall. “Jeez, warn a guy next time. I… okay, ow. What do you mean, what happened?” 

“He was crying. What did you tell him?” 

“Why are you assuming it’s my fault?”

Peggy put her hand on her hip, pursing her lips. Steve held out for a solid five seconds before his shoulders slumped. “I didn’t mean to upset him. I just came over, and— he doesn’t remember us, not really. And when I realized that, I was upset, and he could see I was upset, so in the interest of making him feel better, I told him ‘You’re my best friend in the entire world and nothing will ever change that, even if you don’t remember’, and—” 

Peggy facepalmed. “Steve! No wonder the boy was crying!”

“It was supposed to be reassuring!”

“ _Steve!”_ Peggy said, wincing at her voice crack. “In what world is that reassuring?” His expression fell, and she immediately backtracked. “I know you’re trying your best, it’s just…”

He shook his head, looking away. “No, I get it. I’m sorry.”

 “ _Steve_ —”

 “I miss you,” he admitted, looking up at her with his big, All-American blue eyes. Oh no. Oh no. The eyes were too much, he knew that was unfair. “Every day, I miss you. Seventy years ago, I proposed, and you said yes. My feelings haven’t changed. Have yours?”

Peggy felt like she’d been caught; like she’d been trapped. The automatic answer was _no._ She’d always wanted him. She’d wanted him before the serum and after; all the way through the war; she wanted him that day she saw Captain America on the tv, fighting Chitauri; she wanted him laying on the floor of that old factory, swearing up and down that it was him, _Pegs, it’s me._ She wanted him like she wanted salvation. And she wanted him now.

But there were other factors in play! She didn’t just want him, but she also wanted the best _for_ him. And right now, his best included staying at the Avengers compound. His best did not include her.  

“Steve…” she said quietly, and his face fell. He nodded.

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do,” she said, a little bitter around the edges. “Things are… complicated. You know that.”

“Don’t tell me we can’t be together because things are complicated,” he snapped, taking a step closer. “We fell in love during the most violent war in human history, don’t tell me things are complicated now! Peggy, we’re both _alive._ It’s 2018 and we are both alive and healthy, we could run away and get married right now if we wanted to! Don’t tell me things are too complicated, because they’re not. You’re just scared.”

Peggy couldn’t stay there. She teleported away with no warning, reappearing on a rooftop a few buildings over and sitting down hard. She knew it was childish to leave like that, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never been good at letting other people see her cry.   


———————

**Steve**

 

Bucky watched Steve curiously, like he was trying to read his mind based on his body.

 “I got you water,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice as level as he could. “Here. I’ll help you drink it.”

 Bucky didn’t struggle this time, didn’t flail. He definitely didn’t grab the water bottle in his teeth and fling it at Steve’s face, which Steve appreciated. All in all, he was just quiet, observing.

When he was done, Steve scooted over to Bucky’s side, leaning against the pipes behind him. He sighed, long and drawn out. “I’m so confused.”

 Bucky snorted. “Tell me about it.”

That got a smile out of him. Steve nudged him, lightly. “You remember that time you made me ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?”

There was a pause, Bucky thinking about it. Steve almost called it off, telling him it was no big deal, when Bucky said “And you threw up?”

He didn’t sound sure, but he was right. “Yeah. That’s how I feel now. Like I don’t know what’s up or down, where to land.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. “Talking about my feelings makes me nauseous too.”

Steve snorted. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah…” he said, hesitating. “I guess I do.”

 

—————————

 

Peggy didn’t reappear all day.

Steve spent most of the day talking to Bucky and checking his phone for texts from her. There were none, but his other phone was blowing up.

 

**From: Tony**

**Emergency team meeting! ETA 5 minutes**

 

**From: Sam**

**Dude, where were you all night?**

 

**From: Tony**

**Fundraiser**

**I’ll talk about it at the meeting**

 

**From: Steve**

**Sorry, I can’t go**

 

**From: Tony**

**What do you mean you can’t go? It’s an Emergency Avengers Meeting!!!**

**Drop a pin and I’ll pick you up omw**

 

**From: Steve**

**I’m sorry, but I really can’t go**

 

**From: Sam**

**Why not?**

 

**From: Steve**

**Emergency family thing**

 

**From: Sam**

**Oh, okay dude, good luck**

 

**From: Tony**

**What do you mean, emergency family thing? Aren’t you an orphan??**

 

**From: Steve**

**Thanks Sam**

**Bye Tony**

**Fill me in later**

  


“You’re texting Tony Stark?” Bucky asked, looking over his shoulder.

Steve glanced over. “Yeah? Why?”

“Nothing,” He said a little too quickly.

 

————————

 

Steve had already fed Bucky dinner when his phone buzzed.

 

**_Meet me at the back of the warehouse._ **

 

“So I see you’re still taking orders from her,” Bucky noted. “Hey, I’m not judging. Peggy’s a good person to take orders from.”

So Steve checked in with Bucky to make sure he was comfortable enough, and then walked through the scattered labyrinth of machinery. He knew where he was headed for when he saw the soft glow coming out from behind a boiler.

He turned the corner and stopped. Peggy stood a feet few away, smiling softly, almost sadly. He’d say that the area had been transformed, but it hadn’t, really. There was a blanket on the ground, and candles around the edge. The candlelight was good, because it helped him see, but it was also bad because it cast a warm glow across Peggy’s face, making it look like she was lit from the inside. _An angel,_ he thought. _My angel._

“Sit down and tell me what you want,” Peggy said, her voice precise and even. “And then I’ll tell you what I want. And then we’ll eat some of these fancy cheeses I bought and, I don’t know, I was hoping we could improvise from there.”

Steve sat. Peggy sat, too, watching him intensely and listening as he described what he wanted. He wanted her and Bucky safe. He wanted to be with Peggy again, actually, and to get out of this purgatory of a relationship they were in now. He wanted her to stop killing, and to turn herself in. “Tony has lawyers,” he explained, “And the other Avengers will back you up.”

She leaned forwards, rubbing her thumbnail along her other fingers. “How do you know that? I haven’t exactly been nice to them.”

“They’ll believe me when I say that you’re trustworthy. And they’ll see it for themself, soon enough. You’ve always had a way of winning people over.”

Peggy pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. “Who would I be turning myself in to?”

“Our handler, Thaddeus Ross. You, um, know him.” At this point Peggy looked a little like a deer caught in headlights, so Steve clarified “He’s also the Secretary of State. You’ve been, uh, writing the tips about your executions on his window.”

“Oh!” She said. “Yes. Right.”

She still looked uncomfortable, so Steve plowed on. “He’d probably want to declare you an intergalactic terrorist or something and put you on The Raft, but I won’t let him, and neither will the others. I’ll protect you, Pegs. I promise.”

She nodded slowly, then asked “Is that all you want? Or is there more?”

He sat back, thinking. “I want to be with you. I want you and Bucky to be safe,” he repeated, wanting to drive home the important pieces. “And I want both of you to get out of these situations that have you killing people.”

“Well, at least we can agree on one thing,” Peggy said, a little bitterly. “If I’m honest, I’m quite ready to be done killing people.”

Steve straightened. “You’ll stop?” He had thought it’d be a lot harder. He’d worried that killing people could become addictive, like a drug. He’d spent a lot of night wondering if he stay in love with Peggy if she couldn’t quit. The answer hadn’t been one he was proud of. “Pegs, that’s—”

“—not that simple,” she finished for him. “I have a list. There are people left on it.”

“Three,” Steve said, remembering how the men all had numbers on their clothes, counting down. The last one, Sitwell, had been number 4.

Peggy looked awkward again. “Sure. Three.”

“Peggy, you still have never told me why you’re doing this. If you did, maybe I could help—”

“My strike team,” she interrupted, and Steve quickly stopped talking, wanting to hear all of this. “The one I joined when I first… reformed. We were very close; you know that.”

“I do,” he said, keeping his answer short. He’d been begging Peggy for answers for weeks, and she’d always evaded telling him anything. Now, there was still a chance she’d change her mind, and if that happened Steve would get as many answers as he could first. “Go on.”

She bit her lip. “Okay. We were very close. We were… always working together, we lived together, we were like… sisters. We were like the Commandos, but even closer.”

“Closer than the Commandos?” Steve repeated dubiously. “Sorry, continue.”

“Yes, closer than the Commandos. And… it was different. During the war, there were millions of soldiers on our side. You could go up to any of them, and find someone who was facing a situation at least vaguely similar to yours. That comradery was spread out among millions. But, what my team was doing… we formed in 2010 - just a few months after I arrived - and it was just us. We were the only soldiers in our fight. It was our job to regulate the government, to make sure things were fair. We kept this country safe from internal threats by eliminating them. But…” she stopped talking for a minute, too lost in thought. Steve waited patiently for her to keep going, and eventually she did. “But we weren’t liked, obviously. Besides the fact that we weren’t government sanctioned, we were an all-female Strike force. Politicians didn’t trust our judgement.”

“Still, we applied for immunity from the government. We almost didn’t manage it, but we did get it in the end. Director Fury of SHIELD was actually a big part in convincing people that it was necessary. That was before SHIELD fell, of course.”

“Right,” Steve mumbled. He could see that. Fury had always been a fan of unpopular solutions to solve difficult problems.

“We got the immunity, which meant that the government couldn’t put up any forces against us. We were safe from them. If they felt something happened and that we were no longer adhering to our part of the bargain, then we would come in willingly. It was all very clear. But there were still people who didn’t like us, probably because if we knew everything they were involved in, we’d be coming after them first. They met together and made an agreement, without consulting the FBI, who were actually in charge, and sent one of their own Strike teams after us. We were… staying in a house the government had given us that was supposed to be safe. They weren’t allowed to bypass. But, the Strike team did anyways.” She turned away, the candlelight casting a shadow over her face. “They killed them. All of them. And they would have killed me too, but, well… I still hadn’t found a way to stay solid all of the time; their bullets passed right through me.”

The silence hung in the air. Peggy was trembling, and Steve wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, but he knew that wasn’t what she wanted. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

She shook her head. “It was… wrong, and unfair. I found out who they are, looked into their affairs. Found a lot of dirty money and buried bodies. I’m not killing at random, or to make a statement. I’m killing because they deserve to die. A life for a life.”

This time, Steve couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and taking her hand. She didn’t startle, just stared and let him. “I hope none of the lives you plan on sacrificing include your own. I hope that’s not what you mean by a life for a life.”

She pressed her lips together again, shaking her head. “No. I already died; I have no life to give.” Her hand went transparent in his, weightless, empty, like a projection instead of anything warm and living. It solidified again and Steve clasped it tighter, like he could hold her steady just by doing that.

“But I don’t plan to continue killing,” she confirmed, her voice steadier than it had been before. “I just have to right these last few injustices. And then I’m free as a bird.”

“Right,” Steve said, feeling like he couldn’t draw in a full breath. “Free to run from the authorities. Free to live under the radar for the rest of your life.”

She smiled sadly. “I told you things are complicated.”

“It’s not a deal breaker,” Steve said, so quickly he surprised himself. “Not for me. I… I never expected it to be easy.”

Steve expected her to say something more. Instead, he felt a weight press against his thigh. Peggy had teleported right to his side, leaning in to him and pulling him down into a soft kiss. “I missed you,” she whispered, as Steve held her close, kissing back without thought. It felt so natural, so right. Steve knew, without a doubt, that this was where he belonged.

  


—————————

  


They kissed and kissed, and eventually they stopped kissing to cuddle and eat some of the fancy cheese Peggy had bought. Then they kissed again, getting lost in it.

Finally, Steve yawned, and Peggy giggled a little. She wrapped her arms around them and he jolted as they landed on the bed. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to teleporting with her.

“Lay down,” she said. “I have some thinking to do.”

There was more Steve wanted to say, but her hand was warm on his back. He melted down, and she let him lay his head in her lap, stroking his hair softly. He fell asleep like that; warm, held, with the knowledge that Peggy was safe beside him and that she loved him, actually loved him. She wanted the same thing as him, even if they wanted to get it through different means.

  


—————————

  


He shouldn’t have been surprised, then, when he woke up the next morning to find her gone. He sat up, stretched, and waited. After a few minutes he got up and went to check on Bucky. The ropes that had bound his arms were laying on the floor in a heap.

Steve stepped closer, frowning when he saw his own little burner phone sitting on top of the pile. There was a new message from Peggy.

**_We’re safe. Do what you need to do._ **

  


————————

  ** _Peggy_**

  


James chewed loudly on the carrots. Apparently, he’d been craving something crunchy, but chips were out of the question so Peggy’d gotten him those instead. She hadn’t figured out exactly what he needed to eat to keep from getting sick, but she had a feeling he might end up just going vegan.

James explored the quinjet while she stayed at the pilot’s seat, watching the world pass below them. She knew when he came over and joined her at her shoulder because of the loud chewing noises, even if his footfalls were perfectly silent. “I know I already said this, but you’re cruel.”

“I’m efficient,” she argued, not looking at him. “I ripped the band aid right off.”

“Sure, sure. But did it ever occur to you that maybe Steve’s the kind of guy who needs to let bandaids soak before taking them off? You could have let him soak.”

“Soaking is for pussies,” Peggy muttered. “And besides, I have a deadline. You’re still planning on helping me, yes?”

“Of course,” he said. He’d been downright jittery when she’d given him back his gun, disassembling and cleaning it with such delight you’d think it was his baby. “I’ve got your back.”

She tried to smile. She was almost done. Her list only had two people left on it, and then she’d be free.

 _Free to run,_ her brain reminded her. She forced the thought down.

_Free to leave. Free to go another six years of just texting Steve, and never seeing him._

“Shut up,” she muttered. Then she remembered she wasn’t alone. “Oh, sorry James, not you.”

In the reflection from the windshield, she saw him nodding. “Don’t worry about it. I get the voices too.”

 

————————

**Steve**

  


“Hey Orphan Annie,” Tony greeted with his head still buried in his work. There was a large charred piece of one of the Iron Man suits he was working on, and he looked a little singed himself. “How was the family?”

“They're fine,” Steve answered, ignoring the dig. “What was the meeting about?”

“Well, the first ten minutes was just Ross complaining about our Star Spangled Man With A Plan thinking he's too good for us, but after that, it was actually about the Ghost.”

Steve straightened, the immediately slouched, trying to keep himself from giving anything away. He probably wasn’t doing that great at it. “Oh, yeah? How was it an emergency then, she's been inactive for almost a week now.”

Tony turned and poked a screwdriver against Steve's shirt, leaving a black mark where it touched. “And _that_ is where you're wrong. She killed Councilman Rockwell at a fundraiser two nights ago.”

This time, Steve knew that he was obvious, but he didn't care. Two nights ago, he’d _been with_ Peggy. There was a horrible moment where he wondered if she'd snuck out of bed in the middle of the night to kill the man, when he remembered how disheveled Peggy had been when he’d found her. He’d assumed it was from bringing Bucky in, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

“That's not all,” Tony continued, making some seemingly random hand gesture that made a holographic screen appear. “You know the numbers she’s been leaving on her victim’s clothes? This one was different.”

A picture appeared on the screen. It was a man's body, wearing dress pants and a button down shirt with the number 2 scrawled on it in red lipstick.

“The last one was 4,” Steve realized. “She killed another one without us realizing?”

“That's the current theory. There’s another reason why I think that's true. Look at this chart.” A new image appeared on the screen, a line graph with a line that progressed upwards at a relatively stable rate. “These are the times of death of the known victims: Number 9 died at midnight; Number 8 died at 3am; Number 7 died at 6am; Number 6 died at 9am; Number 5 died at 12pm; Number 4 died at 3pm; and then this one, Councilman Rockwell— Number 2— died around 9pm. All of the other kills were at 3 hour intervals, but this one was after 6 hours. That means that somewhere out there, there’s a dead politician— Number 3— waiting to be found.”

Steve's mouth felt dry. Peggy'd killed another person and he hadn’t even realized. “We have to catch her.”

“Or kill her,” Tony added. “Personally, I’m with you on this one, but Ross is getting really invested. If you asked him, he’d tell you she’s the incarnation of the devil. He says that this is officially a kill mission.”

The burner phone felt heavy in Steve’s pocket. “But you don’t think so?”

Tony kept messing with the iron man suit, his voice light and airy like it wasn’t a big deal. “I… no. I was at the gala where she killed Rockwell, and though I can’t tell you exactly what happened or why… I had just gotten up on a platform to give my speech when she appeared, grabbed me, and dumped me in a building next door. She said something about staying out of her way, but the thing was… I wasn’t in her way. I was giving a speech, I wasn’t going to notice if one random guy went into the bathroom and didn’t come out. But she seemed… frantic. And she didn’t seem to have any desire to kill _me._ I just… I don’t know. I have a hard time killing people when I know they don’t want to kill _me,_ and it’s not like she’s hurting random civilians…”

“She’s not,” Steve agreed. “It’s just politicians. And I bet they’re corrupt, too.”

Tony gave him a look. “Yeah? And how do you deduce that, Watson?”

Steve could feel himself getting more flustered. He was usually so much better at lying, at playing casual, but right now Peggy’s life was on the line and he couldn’t get his act together. “Well, she… she’s counting down? And she just killed Rockwell at the gala, even though there were lots of other politicians there. She could’ve dropped the entire ceiling on them, but instead she just killed Rockwell.”

Tony nodded slowly. “So she’s got a vendetta. That doesn’t mean she’s right.”

Steve stumbled over his words even more. “I guess… I just… I think we shouldn’t kill her. On sight. We should, um, we should take her in, question her…”

“Ross won’t like that.”

Steve huffed. “Ross can deal with it. Wasn’t the point of the Accords accountability? How can we be accountable if we’re killing without knowing which side she’s really on?”

“We know which side she’s on; she’s on the side of people who think that mindless killing is okay.”

“Which is the opposite of what we believe,” Steve argued. “So, we shouldn’t mindlessly kill her.”

Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Alright. Like I already said, I agree with you, we shouldn’t kill her. But no matter what we do, we have to be careful. We can’t go directly against Ross’ orders, or he could get the jurisdiction to put us on the Raft.”

 _The Raft._ God, Steve hated that that place existed. “Fine. We’ll be careful.”

  


—————————

**_Peggy_ **

  


The mission was going brilliantly until James started crying.

Their current victim was Senator Stern, a chubby, red-faced man who’d done extensive money laundering, and had been a key player in killing all of Peggy’s closest friends. Peggy had just shot him through the head when James started making weird noises on the other line. He was gasping like a fish, and something else… whimpering?

Peggy whipped out her lipstick and wrote the number on Stern’s shirt, then left him there to teleport to where James was. She knew he was in the security office, but when she traveled through space she didn’t look for the office but for James. His energy sparked strong and violent, and she appeared in front of him right as he crumpled.

Peggy barely managed to catch him before he hit the floor, but his body weight had increased significantly from the serum and the arm, so she ended up only being able to slow his descent. They crumpled to the ground, his hands around her arms and squeezing painfully. He gasped for breath, tilting his head back.

It was jarring to see him that way. They’d had a little extra time before starting their mission, so Peggy had given him a haircut and a shave, and made him shower in her bathroom. He looked almost like he used to, but despite not aging, the years hadn’t been kind to him. The sun had wriggled its way into his skin, marring the color, and the scar across his cheek was even more prominent without the scraggly beard. He gasped for breath like a fish out of water, his eyes and cheeks wet with tears.

“James, tell me what’s wrong,” Peggy ordered, injecting authority into her voice. He didn’t respond, just started gagging on his own spit. What was happening? Was he having a seizure? “James. James! Come on, come back to me. It’s Peggy. It’s Peggy, you’re safe… James, come on.”

His head slowly craned back forwards. It was a moment out of a horror movie, and Peggy had never believed in all that, but right now it looked like he was possessed. Then he took in a deep, scraggly breath, and his eyes cleared minutely. He sobbed again, the noise loud and coupled with the feel of his chest vibrating painfully. He started crying full on, tears streaming down his cheeks, and before Peggy could say anything else he thrust himself forwards, wrapping around her tightly. “I— I— I—” he tried to talk through the tears but it didn’t work. He breathed rapidly, trying to stop the tears, but when he managed to talk about the words were intertwined with hiccups. “I’m— I’m— fucking _dammit,_ I’m not okay! I’m, I’m, I’m… Peggy, they u-used me for 70 fucking years! I’m not okay, I don’t know which thoughts are my own, I’m _fucking nuts_ and I feel like I’m going to die and, and, and—”

Peggy rubbed his back, trying to reassure him. She looked around the room, checking for any threats. There were none. They’re been two security guards, but they were both currently unconscious and hanging upside down in the corner. At least, Peggy hoped they were only unconscious.

“James,” she said, being as gentle as she could. “James, it’ll be okay. I know it’s hard, I know. But you’ll be okay. Just breathe, alright? Just breathe for me.”

  


——————————

  


When James had finally calmed down, Peggy had about 50% more sympathy for him, and about 50% less sympathy for the baddies in the world. She couldn’t do much about his former handlers, but she could do something about the other evil in the world.

She didn’t offer any prelude when she texted Steve **_Where are you now_ **

He answered immediately. **In a meeting. Where do you need me? I’ll be there in 5**

 

**_Don’t need you anywhere. Is it an Avengers meeting?_ **

 

**Yes. All of us are here, plus Ross.**

**Peggy, what’s going on?**

 

**_At the compound? The normal room?_ **

 

**Peggy, what’s going on?**

**Are you okay?**

**Is Bucky okay?**

 

**_Answer my question!_ **

 

**Yes, the normal room.**

**Now it’s my turn to ask a question: what is happening?**

**You’re worrying me**

  


It wasn’t very nice of her, but she closed her phone and stuffed it in her pocket. “James, I’m going to do something different this time.”

James didn’t even need an explanation. He held out his hand, still a little shaky. “May I?”

Peggy gave him the tube of lipstick, pursing her lips.

  


—————————

**Steve**

  


Steve’s heart was beating so hard that he twitched, but didn’t jump, when the alarms went off. Ross looked up, cussing and grabbing his radio. “What’s happening?”

 _“Lock in; lock in,”_ Friday repeated without emotion. _“All personnel go inside immediately. A threat has been reported outside the building. Once inside, lock the doors behind you and check in on your—”_

“What do you mean?” Ross yelled into his radio. “The entire compound is on lockdown and you want us to go _where?_ There’s _what?!”_

Steve made eye contact with each other the other Avengers one by one. They all shared his gaze. And, as if they were of a hive mind, they all stood and raced downstairs.

“No, stop! That is an order; stop!”

They didn’t stop. The Avengers raced down the stairs together, a unit. Natasha’s arm brushed against Steve’s; Sam was breathing at his six; Tony was muttering beside Sam. Ross was so far behind them he wasn’t even on the same planet.

Steve was the one to throw the door open, and they all stopped. Sam ran into his back, muttering an apology.

On the cement in front of them was a man’s body, face down. His suit jacket had been removed and his white dress shirt had been written on in lipstick. Steve walked behind him, pressing his lips together as he took in the sight. On the back it read: **_YOU FUCKED UP_ **

“Let’s roll him over,” Tony said, taking in the words quickly and filing them away somewhere in that incredible brain of his to deal with later. He and Sam knelt and rolled the man over without any special care. On his front, the number **3** was written in huge red pigment, unable to be ignored. “Friday, what time is it?”

“It is 6:11pm, sir.”

“It lines up,” Tony muttered. “They’ve all been three hours apart. Number 4 was at three pm, number 2 was at nine… and here’s number 3, at six.”

Sam knelt next to the dead man’s puffy face, just observing, not touching. “He died recently, only a few minutes ago. Look, he’s still bleeding.”

“So she really did them out of order,” Tony realized. “She didn’t kill number 3 and not let us know. She killed 2, and then 3. Why?”

“The gala,” Natasha explained, so quickly she almost cut Tony off. She looked up. “She knew he’d be at the gala. She had to kill them out of order for the time constancy.”

“But why would she do that? What’s the point of the times, and writing the numbers on them?”

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, frowning. “She counted down from 8. She let us know about all of them. She kept the times consistent. She wanted us to know how many kills she was planning on doing, which ones were hers, and… when the next one is happening. There will only be one more: number 1, at midnight.”

Sam crossed his arms. “Why would she tell us this? Is she some… sociopath, wanting to prove that she can beat the Avengers?”

“No,” Steve said quietly, still looking at the body. “She got us involved because she wants to… scare someone. She wants to get some kind of revenge, and she’s trying to scare her number 1. They must be… they must be someone who would know about all of this happening, who would know what she’s doing and know that they’re next.”

“Someone who’s been in the loop,” Natasha agreed. “Who would have time to get scared out of their mind before she killed them.”

Steve looked up, meeting Natasha’s eyes, then Sam’s. He met Tony’s gaze, and knew that they were in agreement. They knew who number one was.

The door opened, and Ross stepped out, stumbling slightly when he saw the body. His eyes widened; his mouth dropped. “I— I— I had a call. What— Who—”

In answer, Steve rolled the body back over, showing the message. It was meant for Ross, after all.

**_YOU FUCKED UP_ **

  


——————————

  


Tension was high in the common area. They ate and read and went on their phones, doing their best to distract themselves, but failing as a whole. Nothing was a worthy distraction when there was a body currently being toted away; when their boss was about to murdered; when their jobs were on the line. It wasn’t just their jobs either, but their lives. Ross told them to kill the Ghost. If they didn’t use the level of force commanded, and he died, they could be accountable. And, in their world, being held accountable meant being locked in the Raft.

Steve fiddled with his phone, turning it over and over in his fingers, not even pretending to be thinking of other things. The handwriting on the back of the man’s clothes wasn’t Peggy’s, which meant that it must have been Bucky’s. It wasn’t the same as it used to be, far too messy and angry, but it was in all caps like he’d used to write. He knew that it was him, which meant he was working with Peggy to complete her plan.

Steve rubbed his temples painfully. Now, it wasn’t just Peggy in danger, but Bucky. He’d been brainwashed for 70 years, and even though he acted fine, it was only a matter of time before something set him off. They were balancing on a tightrope, and one small movement would throw them off.

A few feet away, Tony paced. He mumbled to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Sam sat in a chair a few paces away, a bowl of comfort Mac and Cheese in his lap, only half eaten, and Natasha sat against the wall on Tony’s other side, a book open against her knees but her eyes elsewhere.

Steve couldn’t help himself; he texted Peggy. **Please tell me whats going on**

 

**_I was listening. You all have a pretty good idea._ **

 

**Meet me at the warehouse. We need to talk.**

 

**_I’m sorry. No._ **

 

**I need answers! Peggy, I’m scared for you, you cant cut me off like this!**

 

**_…_ **

**_I’m sorry_ **

**_You deserve better_ **

 

**The hell is that supposed to mean?**

 

**_You’re right_ **

**_I won’t be able to be pardoned for this_ **

 

**Pegs, don’t do this**

 

**_I don’t have a choice_ **

 

“So,” Natasha said quietly, breaking the silence. “Are we going to tell Ross that he’s next?”

Steve stared at his phone screen, still open to Peggy’s texts even though he knew he wouldn’t be getting any more messages from her. “I think he already knows.”

Sam shifted. “Maybe, but he doesn’t know about the time thing. He wasn’t there when we figure it out, remember? We know that someday soon, he’s going to get killed at midnight, and if we don’t tell him—”

“He _could_ be killed,” Tony corrected. “Our entire job is trying to make it so he _isn’t_ killed. Which would probably be easier to do if he knew that he was going to die at midnight.”

“Or it’ll mean that he falls right into her trap,” Natasha warns. “He’ll be so afraid he’ll act drastically. He could lock us out, or agree to meet her somewhere and try to kill her himself.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Tony scoffed.

Natasha’s expression didn’t waver, plain and serious, unquestionable. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been tasked with protecting someone. You’d be amazed what people will do when they’re scared for their lives.”

“Fine, so we don’t tell him,” Tony agreed. “How do you suggest we do our jobs then?”

Steve sighed and slouched back into the couch. He let his phone fall onto his lap. “For the record, I hate this, and not just this one part. I hate that this is what we have to do. The Avengers used to mean something; we were the good guys. And now, we’re just fighting so we get our paychecks.”

“It’s not about the paychecks,” Tony said, because of course he did. “It’s about protecting the world from threats and being held accountable for our actions, which is exactly what we’re doing. Look, I know you didn’t like the Accords—”

“I never liked the Accords,” Steve corrected, “Not when we were signing them, and not now. Don’t you see? We’re prisoners of the system. If we follow the rules, and tell him, then he dies and we’re held accountable. If we break the rules and don’t tell him, then he still might die, and we’ll be held accountable.”

“Or,” Tony interjected, “We break the rules, we save his life, and we do our job. No one ever said it’d be easy, Cap.”

“No,” Steve agreed, his tone dark. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right, either.”

Natasha gave him one of calculating looks. “What are you saying? You want to quit?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You can’t _quit.”_

“I’m not going to give up on the mission,” Steve answered, his voice sounding strained even to him. “But that doesn’t mean I like it.”

There was a moment of silence, then Sam spoke up. “Do you know what I don’t like? How she knew Stern would be at that party. I get that she could’ve found his schedule, or followed him or something, but it feels off. She knew where all of her victims would be, like she had access to their schedules or something, but how could that be? I may not be an expert on the subject, but aren’t their schedules hard to access? So, you know, a psychopath couldn’t go and kill them during their lunch breaks? Who all has access to their schedules?”

They took a moment to consider that. “Well, their secretaries would,” Natasha said, mulling it over. “Their families might. But you’re right, that’d be hard to reliably gain access to.” She paused. “We have access to their schedules.”

Steve nodded. He’d looked at the spreadsheet a few times, but it didn’t help much. Sam looked surprised, though. “Wait, we do?”

Natasha gave him a calculating look. “Yes. We’ve had access for a while, even since before the Ghost started offing people. It’s a list of all the high priority politicians and their weekly schedules. We have it so if we were to get a threat saying ‘I’m going to kill John Hickenlooper in half an hour’ we would know that he was supposed to be in the Capitol building at that time. You really didn’t know?”

“No,” Sam admitted, looking embarrassed.

Tony grunted. “Are you sure? Because it says here that you checked the schedule six different times.”

“What? Let me see.”

Tony handed the phone to him and Steve walked over, peering over Sam’s shoulder. It said it, clear as day. “I swear, I never opened this,” Sam promised. His voice shook lightly, and Steve took a moment to remember that before all of this, Sam was a civilian.

“Maybe she got access to it through your phone,” Natasha suggested. “It wouldn’t be hard. She could install a program in it giving her remote access. All she’s have to do is get access to your phone once. Maybe she teleported to your room at night?”

“Or she took it off of you after she’d knocked you out,” Tony added.

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Oh, shit, oh _shit—”_

“It’s fine,” Steve promised. “You didn’t know.”

“Maybe, but that means I still helped a _terrorist_ gain access to _the schedules of all the high ranking politicians in the country!_ Is the president's schedule on there? Please tell me the president's schedule isn’t on there.”

“The president’s schedule isn’t on there,” Tony reassured. “And do you know who else’s isn’t? Ross’.”

They all froze, staring at him.

“That’s good, right?” Sam asked, sounding desperate. “Please tell me that’s good.”

“It’s good,” Tony said, at the same time as Steve went “This is very, very bad.”

They all turned to look at him this time, Sam craning his neck to see Steve behind him. “What? Steve, you know you’re not really reassuring me right now.”

Steve rubbed his fingers with his thumb, a habit he’d begun to pick up from Peggy. “It means that she’ll have to find him on her own. That she’ll have to follow him. And if she was outside earlier, and she listened to our conversation, it means…”

“Wait, back it up,” Tony interrupted. “How do you know she was listening to our conversation?”

In answer, Steve pulled out his burner phone, clicked to the text, and wordlessly handed it to Tony. He stared at it, uncomprehending. Then, silently, he handed the phone back to Natasha, who took one look and said, “Steve, you’ve been texting with the enemy? These last texts… these sound like a break up. Steve, have you—”

“Have you been sleeping with the enemy?” Tony interrupted, loud.

Steve felt his ears go pink. “Well, not _sleeping_ —”

“Steve!”

“It’s a long story!” He defended. “And that’s _not_ the point. The point is that if she followed Ross, and she’s planning to kill him at midnight tonight… guys, it’s 10:30.”

 

————————

**_Peggy_ **

  


As soon as the Avengers left to go to their quarters, Ross ran to his own quarters, stuffing his things haphazardly in an ugly copper suitcase and called the airport, buying a last minute ticket. First class, the prick. Peggy was going to enjoy killing him.

He was out the door and in a car in minutes, unaware of the quinjet following behind him.

  


————————

**Steve**

  


By the time they realized what was happening, Ross was halfway to the airport.

They piled on a quinjet and Tony flew ahead in his suit, getting there ten minutes before the others. Then they spread out, all wearing their civvies with weapons hidden and badges ready to be drawn. As nice as it would be to storm in in their superhero uniforms, it would also cause a mass panic and they’d lose all hope of finding Ross before Peggy did.

“Anyone see them?” Steve asked, speed walking and looking over the edge of the railing for any sight of either Peggy or Ross. There was a resounding no over the radio. “Tony, any idea which flight he’ll be getting on?”

The comm crackled in his ear. “I’m guessing it’s the flight to Miami that’s boarding in twenty minutes. He has a summer condo there, it’d be a good place to lay low. In theory.”

“Excuse me, sir, excuse me!”

Steve cursed quietly and turned, pushing his hood back. The security guard was hurrying over to him, but before she could get there Steve had his ID out— the picture with him in his Captain America uniform. “I’m here on official business, excuse me.”

“The Florida flight is in the South terminal,” Natasha announced. “I’ll go there. Sam, you watch security, Tony and Steve, you stay moving. Steve, now would be a good time to start texting.”

The others had been a little rightfully bitter about the phone situation, but Steve was glad for the reminder that they were willing to look past it for the mission. He hadn’t been fair to them, but they wouldn’t let it compromise things. “Okay. But I’ll warn you, she usually doesn’t reply during missions.”

He pulled out his phone, shooting off the first message he could think of. **There’s a Starbucks here. I bet they put milk in their tea.**

 

**_I bet they also put coloring in it. Thanks, but I’ll pass. I’m busy rn._ **

 

**Oh really? What are you up to?**

 

**_Taking a walk. Look up._ **

 

Steve looked up, and immediately made eye contact with a woman on the opposite balcony from him. Her red lips pulled up in a proud smile, then she disappeared into thin air, like she was never there at all.

Steve cussed. “I just saw her, on the balcony above security, north side. She teleported though, so she could be anywhere.”

Just then all of the security machines went off at once, causing the crowd waiting their to raise their voices in alarm. The security guards were quick to calm them down, promising it was only a glitch in the system. Steve was focused so intently on it that he almost hurled himself over the balcony when there was a sharp poke to his ribs. He turned, but no one was there.

  


**THATS NOT FUNNY**

 

**_Come on, we both know it is_ **

  
  
Above him, the loudspeakers went off, announcing three different flights. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on them just to focus on _something._ “ _Five minutes until boarding on Flight 227 to Miami; All boarding on Flight 145 to Omaha; Five minutes until boarding on Flight 227 to Miami.”_

Steve opened his eyes, frowning. Did they just mention the same flight twice?

“I’m at the gate,” Natasha announced. “He’s not here, but I’ll wait.”

“I’m walking that way,” Tony responded. “I’ll see if he’s nearby.”

“No sign of him at security,” Sam reported. “Although, all of the metal detectors just went off at once, which was weird, but might be irrelevant.”

Natasha: “Yeah, something like that just happened down here too. All of the computers shut off and the attendants had to restart them. Do you think she’s trying to delay the flight further so she can kill him before he gets on?”

Tony: “Sounds like it. All the more reason to stop her. There are _kids_ nearby, we can’t let her kill a guy in front of them.”

Sam: “Hey, that guy also happens to be your _boss.”_

Tony: “My point still stands. Steve? Check in?”

“I’m still alive,” Steve responded. “I _think.”_

Tony laughed a little uncomfortably. “I mean… good? I mean, I figured. Has something happened that would make it hard to still be alive?”

Steve leaned forward on the railing, trying to pull himself together. There was so much stimulation around him that it was hard to focus on one thing, especially when there were people talking in one ear through the comm, while the other ear tried to process sensory information. It was becoming almost too much to handle, but he _had_ to handle it. There was too much riding on this.

“...No,” he said finally. “But she was here a moment ago. Scared me. She’s gone, and she didn’t say anything, but I just…” he took in a sharp inhale. “Okay. I’m fine. Where do you need me?”

“Keep walking?” Tony suggested. “Check in between the security area and the flight terminals. Or maybe one of the other terminals; Nat and I are both in the West side, but we don’t know for sure that this is the flight he’s going to take. Just keep moving.”

“Will do.”

Steve wanted to jump over the edge of the balcony, but that’d probably be pretty bad for their whole low-profile thing. He took the stairs instead, going two at a time and blurring past security, flashing his pass for them to see. The word must have gotten around because they didn’t question him.

He dipped down the South terminal, slowing to look at each person individually. Suddenly, half of all the windows burst open, letting cold air blast in, making papers fly and people panic. They closed quickly, and then opened again.

 

**How are you doing that???**

 

**_They’re automatic. I think the airport sometimes opens them to air the place out._ **

 

**Well stop it! You’re creating a panic!**

 

**_That’s the point. He deserves to be afraid._ **

 

**Don’t you think this is going a little too far??**

 

**_No_ **

 

The windows blasted open again then closed abruptly, with an air of finality. The intercom dinged, and a pleasant female announcer requested _“Would Ana, Angie, Dottie, Rose, and Sasha please report the the front? I repeat: would Ana, Angie, Dottie, Rose, and Sasha please report to the front? Congratulations, you’ve all won one way tickets! Excuse me, my mistake: would Thaddeus Ross also report to the front? It appears you’ve earned yourself a one way ticket as well; congratulations!”_

There was some light clapping from confused travelers. Steve felt his heart speed up. _Angie, Dottie…_ those were the names of Peggy’s murdered friends. _You’ve all won one way tickets!_

“Was that ominous or what?” Tony said idly, probably completely unaware of just how true his statement was. “Any news?”

Natasha was the first to come in: “No. Are you sure he’s on this flight? Did you check his account history?”

“Natasha, for shame. Are you asking me to hack into our Secretary of State’s bank account history just to see—”

“ _Yes.”_

“Well, for you information, I already did. Or, I’m working on it. Or, actually, Friday’s working on it. Sorry for the delay, Friday’s running a little slow. I flew here in the new suit, since the Ghost destroyed my old one, but I had to do a rush job of uploading Friday to it and it’s made her a little glitchy. She flew fine though.”

“Thanks for the full rundown,” Natasha said sarcastically. “Let me know when you find anything out.”

Steve kept walking, now not only looking over the faces of waiting people, but also at the destinations. _Los Angeles. Tuscan. Omaha. Kansas City._

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find not a message, but an image: Sam’s official Avengers ID badge, held in a hand with red painted nails. As if on cue, Sam was yelling into the comms “Hey, I just tried to get past security but my badge is gone! I had it, I swear, but I literally can’t find it and they’re trying to kick me out—”

“She took it,” Steve said, cutting him off. “She sent me a picture. I’m sorry.”

“We’ll make her give it back!”

“I have a feeling it doesn’t work like that,” Tony interjected. “It’s okay Sam, you can just stay in the public part of the airport, before security. But it probably means they’re both past security. Steve, Natasha, get ready, I have a feeling something—”

“What the— fuck!” Natasha interrupted. Steve pressed the comm closer to the ear, trying to make out the commotion.

“What’s happening?! Tony, get there fast, what—”

“Someone’s fighting her! He’s…. I don’t even know, he’s wearing a mask and fighting hand to hand and—”

“Help her!”

“I can’t, this guy’ll decapitate me with one kick! The only reason he hasn’t won yet is because it’s Natasha, she was trained by the fucking Russians. Um, shit, shit! Friday just got the information, he was never going to Miami, he’s going to _Omaha._ Omaha, what the hell is in _Omaha—”_

“Didn’t that flight already board?” Steve asked, panicking. He turned and started sprinting through the crowd, trying to get back to the gate. He’d seen it, meaning it was close…

“Stark, a little help?” Natasha asked, out of breath. There was the sound of a small explosion.

“He’s wearing a mask, right?” Steve yelled as he ran. “Long brown hair, grey-blue eyes—”

“Short brown hair, and I don’t know his fucking eye color you doltz! He’s got a scar on his cheek though, if that helps?”

“Don’t hurt him!” Steve yelled. It was Bucky, he knew that for a fact.

Over the comms, Natasha and Tony responded just as he’d expected them too. “ _What?”_

“ _What?_ He’s literally trying to kill her!”

“No, not kill. Distract. I— Shit, I’m at the terminal, it’s already closed! The plane is on the runway, Tony, you need to get there _now.”_

“I’m on it!”

“I’ll go too!” Sam said. “Put my wings to good use!”

Steve knew it wouldn’t help though. As soon as that plane took off, it’s be going too fast for Sam to be able to catch up. Tony was their only hope now.

  


——————————

**_Peggy_ **

  


Thaddeus Ross is sitting four rows in front of her, in the aisle seat. He keeps tapping, his body jerking every few moments as he cranes his neck to see to the front of the plane, to the back, out the window, out someone else’s window. During the safety presentation, he watched intently, every few moments shaking himself to try and pay attention again. Her tricks had worked, and he was so jittery the flight attendants had all checked on him individually.

Peggy, on the other hand, was rather enjoying herself. She’d never flown first class before, and it was rather pleasant. She had half a mind to wait out the flight, enjoy herself and take advantage of the free snack menu that was included, but she knew that probably wouldn’t be wise. It was 11:53, and Thaddeus Ross had seven minutes to live.

After two minutes of waiting, Peggy unbuckled her seatbelt and stood, brushing off her pants. She was dressed like a businesswoman, and she had to say, she was enjoying the look.

She walked up a few steps, ignoring the flight attendant who called out “Ma’am, we’re still ascending, please go back to your seat and—”

Peggy grabbed Ross by the arm, making him jump. He stared at her with eyes so big she could see the whites all the way around them. His lips were parted, but he didn’t scream, didn’t cry out. “Let’s take this outside, shall we?” Peggy suggested.

Then she disappeared, dragging Ross with her, through time and space, the liminal existence between atoms. They reappeared on top of the plane and she dumped him against the the fin sticking straight up, the vertical stabilizer. He gasped and grabbed at it with both hands, holding on tight.

The plane made a noise and then slowed its ascent, coming closer to leveling out. Peggy appreciated it; it made it easier to balance on her kitten heels. The wind was forceful and intense, pushing Ross’s hair and wrinkled skin back, but Peggy hardly even noticed. She looked down and hummed at her semi-transparent hands.

It was a lot more peaceful than she’d expected, really. Meanwhile, Ross looked like he was about to pee his pants. “You knew this was coming,” Peggy started, only raising her voice high enough to be heard over the wind. She stepped forwards, her heels clicking lightly. “You’ve known this was coming for a while. You’re welcome, though. I saved you for last.”

He didn’t respond. He probably couldn’t, through the wind and imbalance and fear. Peggy felt no pity.

“Ana, Angie, Dottie, Rose, and Sasha,” she recited calmly. “Tell me, do those names mean anything to you?”

He didn’t respond. He was crying, it appeared, possibly due to his impending death and possibly due to the wind ripping tears from his eyes. He stared up at her in a way that very closely resembled begging for mercy, but he was without voice, the shock of it rendering him completely mute.

“Those were the names of my comrades,” Peggy explained patiently. “Those were the names of the women you killed in cold blood because you felt threatened by them. If I could have, I would have done this the legal way, but there is no justice for people like you. You could weasel your way out of any lawsuit I could charge you with, or it could take years. And I’m sorry to say that you don’t have years, old man. You will die tonight, at the ripe age of 72, having lived a full life. None of my friends were older than 35. None of them were married, though some of them planned to be. Your death will never fulfill the penance necessary for their lives. But it’s the best I can do.”

Peggy was crying now, just a tear. Just one tear, and it was one more thing she was giving Ross, one more thing that he was going to take. She hated crying in front of him, but in exchange for his life, he could have her tear.

Peggy became vaguely aware, then, of the figure flying at the plane’s side. It was Iron Man; he must have been the one to tell the pilot to stop their assent. Peggy appreciated it; Ross was already struggling to breath as it was, and she wasn’t done.

Iron Man flew at full speed, still struggling to keep up with the plane. He looked at them, first at Ross who was looking at him with the desperate hope of a dying man, and then at Peggy, who scowled at him. She’d hoped he wouldn’t interfere, but now she’d have to resort to more desperate measures.

“Tony, would you mind telling me what time it is?”

“It’s 11:59,” he responded, his voice altered from the suit. “Is that— Peggy? Like, Peggy Carter? Are you— you don’t have to do this, you know. We can find another way. A legal way. Come on, let’s get back in the plane, I was actually wanting to talk to you.”

Peggy shook her head, just slightly. The time for talking was done.

The plane swayed from side to side, making Ross’ grip on the fin weaken. He slid, grappling for any hold. That was Peggy’s cue. She walked forwards, her heels clicking all the way, and then knelt beside him. “At least I gave you a warning. That was more than you gave us.”

He gasped for air, his skin turning sickly pink. She thought that he’d stay like that, but to her surprise, he actually responded. “You didn’t give my coworkers a warning. You call that mercy?”

“No,” she hummed. “But I didn’t give them fear either. I saved that just for you.”

Then she kicked him off the plane.

  


————————

  


Peggy took in a sharp inhale. She’d done it, finally done it, and she gave herself two whole seconds to revel in that. She was free. She was _free._

Well, almost.

She leapt off of the plane, swan diving after Ross. She forced herself to become solid, finally feeling the wind ripping against her, the brutally cold air. She gritted her teeth, squinting against the air streaming against her face.

She was only a second from colliding with Ross when Iron Man intercepted, trying to grab him out of the air. Peggy grabbed onto him, her body hitting his harshly and sending them spiraling out of orbit. She slammed her watch against his suit and it clasped on, undoing itself from her wrist. God, she loved that device. Sasha had been so creative coming up with it. Oh, how Peggy missed her.

Peggy twisted and kicked away mid air, already feeling the lack of oxygen catch up to her. Tony grabbed at her, but the clock must have hit 12 because his repulsors blasted, sending him upwards and away from them. Peggy spread her arms and legs to slow her fall, watching as Ross got further and further away and the ground became closer.

She closed her eyes, teleported, and slammed through the hull of the quinjet, hitting something and going spiralling onto the ground. She gasped, breathing hard for a few moments, in too much pain to move. Then someone groaned, and she smiled through the pain, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I should’ve… planned that better.”

In response James just laughed. He winced at the pain, which made Peggy laugh and then wince.

“Ow. I forgot how much broken ribs hurt.”

Through the pain, she couldn’t help smiling. She was done. She was done, officially. Now all that was left was dealing with the consequences.

  


—————————

  


Peggy started by going home and doing a rather nice job of inspecting her ribs, declaring once and for all that, why yes, they were broken. Just two, which was better than she’d expected. Her arm was also snapped rather cleanly in half, and James set it for while she complained and cussed him out.

James had gotten by with only minor injuries. She suspected that his ribs had been broken, but that they’d already healed. It seemed impossible, but it wouldn’t be the first time his healing factor left her gobsmacked.

The next order of duty included the roof of her building and a bottle of champagne. James even got streamers, and they had a proper party, passing the bottle back and forth.

“Come on, admit it,” Peggy teased. “That was the most badass thing you’ve ever seen.”

James’ lips quirked up at the side, smirking playfully. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Come _on!_ I kicked a guy off a _plane_ and then jumped off myself! That’s crazy! The craziest thing you’ve ever seen!”

He shrugged causally. “Meh. Maybe it makes the top ten. Fifteen, maybe.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve ever done anything like that?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I used to have to parachute in for missions. Have you ever seen those… squirrel suit things?”

She tilted her head, imagining one. “Yes?”

“That’s what I used. I had to jump out of planes and land all on my own, on the regular. So no, it’s not the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.”

Peggy grinned and leaned back against the brick ledge. “Alright, alright. Steve should be having this conversation with us. He used to jump from hover jets into the water below without a parachute.”

James stopped smiling. “He didn’t.”

“He _did,_ ” Peggy said with a big, slightly-drunk grin. “I watched. You know I always loved watching him work.”

He sighed wistfully. “You and me both.”

Peggy kicked his left playfully. “Hey, back off. He’s mine.”

“I’ll fight you for him.”

“I’ve already beat you once; I could do it again.”

James grumbled to himself, but didn’t push the matter further. He looked up at the moon, only half full in the sky, and his eyes cleared slightly. “So what happens now? You start running?”

Peggy shrugged. “Probably. Will you come with me?”

“You know I will.”

  


—————————

  **Steve**

  


Steve watched from the tarmac as the plane soared upwards, Tony following after it in his Iron Man suit. His enhanced eyesight and the clear night worked together to make it so he could see most of the fight, or at least the end: Ross fell off the plane, Tony dove for him, Peggy dove for Tony, and they went grappling. It looked like Tony had caught her so she wouldn’t become a Peggy-pancake upon impact, when something weird happened to his suit and he let go, opening his arms and soaring up. His voice crackled in on the comms: “Something happened, there was some kind of prewritten override in the suit! I can’t get control of it again!”

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, panicked.

“I’m fine, but I can’t catch her! Sam—”

“Already on it!” Sam called, spreading his wings and launching himself. Steve knew already that it wouldn’t work; she was too far away, and his wings weren’t fast enough. Peggy was going to die.

But then, she just… disappeared.

“Where’d she go?” Steve whispered. Beside him, Natasha was silent, watching with the same intensity.

Then, something _happened_ and a quinjet flared into existence, its retro-reflective panels turning off. It stayed still for a few moments, and then shifted, moving away and disappearing again.

Steve took out his phone, but there were no new messages. He sent one of his own, just one word:

**Peggy?**

  


—————————

  


Steve gets no response, and he starts dreading the worst as the hours drag on, the night growing so late it could technically be classified as morning. Suddenly, there was a noise coming from his bedroom. He rushed over, getting there just in time to see a figure dressed in all black slide through smoothly. He lands on his feet and gives Steve a shy little smile. “Hey,” Bucky says. He holds out a destroyed burner phone. “Peggy dropped this. Thought you should know.”

  


—————————

  


A week passed.

Steve did not see, or hear from, Peggy or Bucky. An international manhunt was launched to find them, but so far Steve was pretty sure they hadn’t been caught.

The process of finding a new handler for the Avengers began, but Tony estimated it’d be weeks until they found anything. The Avengers were tried for treason and the murder of a government official, but before anyone could be thrown on The Raft there was a small invasion in New York.

“Fucking Doombots,” Tony muttered. “Can’t the NYPD handle this?”

“Probably not,” Natasha said airily. “I guess it’s time for us to earn our paychecks.”

Steve sighed, drawn out. “I want to retire.”

They spread out, but Steve stayed on the rooftop, just staring down for a few moments. He wondered where Peggy and Bucky had gone, where they were. How they were.

“Cap, you have incoming!” Tony announced, right as a huge machine appeared out of nowhere. It was a quinjet, and the cargo hold of it lowered down, revealed a woman standing on the side, the wind blowing her hair. A man marched up behind her, looking as good as ever in his blue military style jacket, a wicked looking gun slung over his shoulder.

“Hey Steve!” Bucky called, cupping a metal hand around his mouth. “We’re gonna run away together. You wanna come with?”

Steve couldn’t help the big grin spreading across his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the burner phone he’d been carrying with him all week, even though it was pointless.

“Steve!” Peggy called, and just hearing her voice made him jolt. “My phone broke! Come on, let’s go!”

He held up a finger, and he could hear their grumbling even from a hundred feet away. He quickly typed in a message, didn’t press send, and set the phone on the ground. “Sorry guys,” he said into the comm, “It looks like I’m sitting this one out.”

Then he pulled out his comm and crushed it in his hand. The quinjet was hovering in the air, a huge gap in between it and the building, but Steve didn’t care. He ran and jumped, stumbling onto the platform. Two pairs of hands grabbed onto him, pulling him up.

“I'm sorry,” Peggy muttered, pulling him into a hug. “I'm sorry.”

Steve held her tight, then pulled away just enough to peck her on the lips. “It’s okay. Do you have a destination in mind?”

“Nope!” Bucky said, far too happy for what the situation called for. “We're free as birds.”

“We're on the run,” Peggy corrected mildly. “Fugitives from the law. International terrorists.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, rubbing his hand in idle circles on her back. “It’s not the first time. But, if you have no other plans, I have a friend who owes me a favor…”

“Sounds perfect. Where are we headed?”

Steve grinned. “Oh, nowhere. Just this little place called Wakanda.”

 

\----------------

 

There was definitely some guilt associated with leaving his team, but Steve knew they could handle the doombots, and knew they would understand. After all, he did leave them a message on the burner phone that he no longer needed.

 

**Hey,**

**Sorry for ditching. Family emergency. You guys have got this.**

**Thanks for everything, and I sincerely hope to see you all again. I will be in contact.**

**Love, Steve.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I have been working super hard on this for the past few weeks, and I’m so happy it’s done! Please comment your thoughts! I know that this story won’t get much recognition because of the pairing, so seriously, any and all appreciation will be sincerely appreciated! 
> 
> A Steve/Peggy/Bucky epilogue may be in the future as well...


End file.
